


let me carry your weight

by soldouthaz



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Positivity, Body Worship, Bottom Louis, Flexible Louis, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, I can't stop with the bathing I'm sorry can you tell it's a thing for me, I've never been to a gym in my life, If You Squint - Freeform, Insecure Louis, Light Choking, Light Spanking, M/M, Manhandling, Masturbation, Oh and Also, Overstimulation, Pining, Rimming, Rough Sex, Slight Voyeurism, Smut, Some angst, Strong Harry, Top Harry, Trainer Harry, Unsafe Sex, barbell is my new least favorite word, body image issues, could be rougher but I'm too soft sorry, creative workout ideas!, kind of, sauna sex, shower scenes, showering together, slight size kink, so I'm sorry if anything is inaccurate, that is not discussed beforehand!!!, there is one scene of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24484909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldouthaz/pseuds/soldouthaz
Summary: louis is fresh out of a bad relationship with someone who made him feel awful about how he looked. on his journey to better himself, he meets harry - the ridiculously attractive and fit personal trainer.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 131
Kudos: 1085





	let me carry your weight

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this fic DOES involve talk of body image/healthy weight loss and revolves around themes of weight and appearance, so if any of that kind of thing bothers you please be careful and make the right decision on whether to read! 
> 
> once again this was supposed to be a pwp and once again, it is not. (although there is a good amount in here!) big big thank you to everyone that gave me ideas for this fic and cheered me on throughout the entire thing - you know who you are :) and a MASSIVE thanks to my wonderful amazing beta ris -- [falsegoodnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsegoodnight/pseuds/falsegoodnight) . i tried to include all of the suggestions! feel free to let me know what you think! enjoy! :)

It’s been a long road leading up to this point. It’s been years of offhand comments about how much he eats, open grimaces when he undresses, and an endless line of backhanded compliments that lands him here - his gym pass clutched tightly in one hand, a water bottle in the other, and a prominent frown on his lips. 

Louis’ always been confident, usually the first one to flaunt his body or flirt with someone he finds attractive. But lately it’s been  _ different _ . He averts his eyes each time he passes a mirror. He turns down the appetizers when he goes out to eat with friends. Just last week he’d even had to throw out some of his old favorite shirts because they didn’t fit anymore. While he’s never minded having a bit of extra skin on his hips, thighs, and everywhere in between, other people don’t necessarily feel the same way. 

Fresh out of a two and a half year relationship with who he’d thought was the love of his life, Louis’ determined to make some positive change. There’d been a time when he loved his body, when he’d stand nude after a shower and admire his curves with a smile. He hates, more than anything else, that  _ that’s _ been taken away from him. The countless boxes of chocolate and ice cream he’d eaten after the breakup had done little to support his new goal. 

So, step one had been admitting he needed some things to change. Significantly more difficult, step two is actually  _ doing _ something about it. Luckily he’s got good friends that referred him here, and he’s even got the first month of his membership completely free. Louis feels like that’s enough time to decide whether or not he’s going to be serious about it. 

Several people have passed by him awkwardly to open the door, glancing at him with judgmental eyes. Then again, Louis supposes he probably shouldn’t be blocking the entrance with his existential crisis. He stares wide eyed at the door handle, then catches his own reflection in the glass. 

That’s what gets him moving forward in a rush, determined to change his reaction. He misses being proud of how he looks. Bitter nostalgia settles heavy in his chest, his stomach swirling with nerves as he stares at the carpet passing by underneath his feet. 

“Hi! How can we help you today?” 

The woman behind the front counter is too peppy, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She’s got on a sports bra and yoga pants that look perfect on her, and Louis already begins to regret coming in. 

“Uhm, I just got my membership,” he waves his card at her awkwardly, then struggles to find something else to say. 

“Oh, you’re a newbie,” she grins. “C’mon, I’ll show you around.” 

Glancing down at his own outfit, Louis’ plain grey joggers and t-shirt stand out like a sore thumb. He feels severely underdressed, surrounded by people who seem to do this everyday. It is the middle of the year now, though, and he figures everyone’s new years resolutions have trickled off, leaving only the true athletes left in their place. 

She takes him through several different floors of amenities while he tries to hide the fact that he’s out of breath already, barely able to understand what she’s saying before she’s moving on to the next room. In true gym fashion, he can't spot an elevator anywhere, only multi-level staircases that taunt him with every other step. There’s a spa and a snack bar somewhere in there, but he can’t even remember where they were by the time they return to the first floor. 

“And we’re back at the main level,” she gestures to the open floor, intimidating workout equipment Louis’ never seen before taunting him as he wheezes. “You can find almost everything you’re looking for down here on the map, but let me know if you have any trouble, okay?” 

“Yeah, thanks,” he nods, exhaling dramatically after she walks away to release where he’d been sucking in his abdomen. Flicking his eyes away from the sharp inward curve of her waist, Louis shakes his head and turns back to the map in front of him. 

He scans over the information again to determine where he’s going to start, his gaze flicking between the main floor and the pool. A swim sounds nice but he hadn’t brought a bathing suit, so he supposes that’s out for today. 

Before he can visualize the layout enough to figure out which direction to go in, there’s someone sliding past him from behind, warm body heat tracing the length of his back and shoulders for a few seconds in between. When Louis looks over to see who’d invaded his personal space, he can’t help but gawk. 

The guy’s -  _ buff _ . There’s really no other way to put it, thick arms stretching out the thin shirt he’s got on. Tattoos run the length of his arm and over his chest and Louis can see them (and his  _ pecs _ ) through the material. All broad shouldered and tall, Louis thinks he’s a walking wet dream. He’s firm and muscled and aloof and he’s - 

He’s exactly the kind of guy Louis’d been hoping to avoid. 

While he’s easy on his eyes, Louis knows he’s the type that would completely make fun of him if he ever saw him working out on any of the equipment. He’d probably laugh and flex his ridiculously large biceps while Louis struggled to work the elliptical - one of the only things in the gym he already knows the name of. 

“First time?” The guy asks, glancing at Louis from the corner of his eye while he fills up his water at the fountain next to the map. 

“Uh, yeah,” Louis nods, clearing his throat and averting his gaze. “Is it that obvious?” 

“No, no. I’m just - experienced, you could say.” He grins cheekily, and Louis’ left with his mouth half open as he screws the cap back onto his water, reeling from the slight suggestiveness of his smirk. Slowly, he glances up and down the length of Louis’ body. “Feel free to let me know if you need anything.” 

And, just like that, he’s sauntering off again toward the other end of the gym. Louis goes dizzy from the short conversation, blinking harshly to clear it from his mind in an effort to maintain his focus. Seeing someone so fit should have made him inspired, but as he catches sight of his loose tee and sweatpants in the mirror again, all he feels is dejected; unsure of whether or not he’d been flirting or pointing out the obvious - that Louis looks nothing like the athletic people lingering around the gym. 

Doing his best to shake off the entire thing, he heads toward the open area to the machines that look the simplest to work and sets his water down next to the treadmill. He feels more self conscious than he’d like to admit when he sees all of the options on the screen in front of him. Standing with his legs spread on either side of it, Louis pokes his tongue out while he tries several buttons until the grey mat underneath him begins to move. Hesitantly, he steps one foot on it and then the other, working up to a mild speed and grabbing onto the handles on the sides. 

For today, he leaves his headphones out just in case. He wants to get a feel for the atmosphere first, wants to be able to hear it if anyone snickers at him. Some psychedelic pop is playing over the speakers and Louis tries to get into it but all it ends up doing is putting him more on edge. 

Everyone else seems to know what they’re doing. People all around him are hard at work on their own machines, already working up a sweat while Louis’ too scared to know where to begin other than quite literally  _ walking _ . He steps off of the treadmill when it starts beeping at him and he can’t figure out what it’s trying to say. 

Heading for the only thing that looks familiar, Louis approaches the shelf of weights on the far wall. Luckily it seems to be somewhat away from prying eyes, but he still glances over his shoulder quickly before picking up two of the lightest dumbbells they have. He lifts those for a few minutes, raising one and then the other until his arms begin to ache, then sets them back down and moves toward the elliptical. 

It doesn’t end up going much better, really, but Louis feels more like he blends in when he’s on it so he stays there for a good fifteen minutes at a slow pace. It gets his heart rate up but it doesn’t do much else, and Louis presses stop on the screen and steps off feeling wondrously unproductive. 

Grabbing his few things he’d brought with him, he cradles the water bottle to his chest as if it will make him disappear on his way out, speeding toward the closest exit without thought to where he came in. 

He ends up walking in a gigantic circle around the back of the gym, passing the other areas she’d showed him on the tour. Soon enough his feet begin to drag the patterned carpet, his disappointment and fatigue getting to him quicker than he’d thought it would. Just as he’s about to reach the front desk again, he passes a room with glass walls facing the hallway. Curious despite himself, Louis glances inside when he catches sight of a familiar body. 

From the other side of the hall, he stares openly as the same guy he’d talked to earlier at the water fountain aims his aggression at the punching bag. His face set firmly and his muscles drawn tight, Louis isn’t sure whether to ogle him or become even more insecure. It’s not that Louis wants to look like  _ that _ necessarily, but he thinks it’d be nice if he could go up a flight of stairs without hyperventilating every once in a while. This guy looks like he could go up twenty without breaking a sweat. 

He’s trying to snap himself out of it when the guy looks over at him as if feeling his gaze. He fully turns, his eyes locking with Louis, but he doesn’t seem angry. Slowly and with a raised brow, he waves toward Louis again, a small smile on his lips. Face coloring, Louis shuts his mouth abruptly and speed walks toward the door. 

It’s the fastest he’s moved in months. 

+

Niall’s last minute invitation to go out tonight rests open on his phone on the counter at his flat. Louis’ been eyeing it for the last hour, unsure of whether or not he feels up to it. He doesn’t, but he can’t just let himself wallow. It’s been a few months now and he shouldn’t be so afraid to do the things he once did without even thinking about it. In the end, he decides he could use a fun night and heads to his room to find something to wear before he texts him back. 

His go-to club outfit still hangs right where he left it a few months back, when he used to feel good about himself. He’d enjoyed showing off his body then, the sheer black top and the skinny jeans working wonders for his physique. But his ex hadn’t liked something about it, either the outfit or just his body in general, and it’s been collecting dust ever since. Running a fingertip over the familiar material, Louis pulls it off the hanger and grabs the jeans from his drawer. 

He undresses quickly without looking in the mirror. He doesn’t need to see his reflection; he can already feel the excess skin on his bones without visualizing it, too. There’d been a time he stood in this very spot and admired himself. Now he colors, second-handedly embarrassed at the memory. 

In only his boxers, Louis tugs on the shirt first because it seems less intimidating. It’s flowy but clings to the outline of his hips, allowing a bit of give in the front should he need it - like right now. It slips on easily enough but doesn’t necessarily feel like it used to, doesn’t give him the same spike of excitement it once held. 

Keeping his gaze on the ground, he reaches for the pants next. They make it just over his knees before he has to pull harder to get them up his thighs.  _ They’ve always been like this _ , he tries to remind himself.  _ They’re supposed to be this tight _ . 

Except - except they pop over his hips with a start, but then they don’t go any further. The button on the front won’t meet the other side of the jeans, a small gap between it and the hole that won’t close. Louis bites his lip to keep from crying, shutting his eyes determinedly. He shuffles backwards and falls onto the bed until he’s flat on his back, sucking in as hard as he can to see if it makes any difference. 

The button still doesn’t reach across and Louis lets out a heavy sob. When did this happen? Surely he hadn’t let himself go as much as his ex had suggested. He wonders if he’d somehow missed it, hidden underneath all of his hoodies and sweatpants and thick clothing. 

His phone rings from the kitchen but he doesn’t stand to get it. Louis strips his clothes off the best he can while he’s laying down, throwing them off the side of the bed without care. When he’s naked once again, he curls up into the fetal position on his sheets and tries to ignore the way his stomach folds with him. 

+

Going back to the gym had been a layered decision. After many hours of feeling angry and sad for himself, he’d come to the conclusion that he needed to get over it. He’d had his pity party and the gym membership wasn’t going to use itself. The tough love secretly only made him even more upset, his lip still wobbling as he slid on his old workout clothes and slinked to the car, but he does his best to keep it in for his pride’s sake. He still feels unattractive and bloated when he pulls up to the gym, sighing at the tall building in front of him. 

Like they’re somehow friends now, the woman behind the front desk beams and waves at him when he comes in, then looks back down to her work as if Louis knows his way around by this point. Lips curling up awkwardly in response, he tries to return the gesture. 

A few weeks prior Louis’d made a list of exercises to try when he finally decided to start going. He’d been admittedly more optimistic then. Still, he pulls his phone from his pocket and scrolls back through his notes as he finds an unoccupied corner of the room. The weights hadn’t done all that much for him last time and neither had the treadmill, so he passes those up and decides on something he thinks should be easier. 

Raising his arms high above his head, Louis stretches the muscles in his back and neck, twisting side to side. Then he drops down to try to touch his toes, his fingertips only reaching to right above his ankles. He stretches both arms in front of his chest once more before he attempts the first thing on the list. 

Surrounded by two of Louis’ least favorite things - people and mirrors - the thought of doing a squat sounds like the worst idea in the world. It also seems like one of the easiest things to do, though, compared to sit ups and push ups and planks, so he settles for it anyway. 

Hands braced together in front of him, Louis glances around, takes a deep breath in, then shakily lowers his body to the ground until he’s in a squat. Testing the stance a few times with a careful bounce on his toes, he winces as he lifts himself again. It’d been much easier going down. 

He turns his head both ways determinedly and drops down again. Really he ends up just sitting there after a few more repetitions, all too easy to get in the pose but difficult to stand up again afterward. Huffing, he puts his hands on his knees to stand. 

“Need some help with that?” 

The deep voice startles him, his eyes snapping up to see the same guy he’d seen on his first day. He regards him with a furrowed brow without responding. 

“I work here,” the guy says, offering a hand along with a throaty laugh. “I’m Harry. I’m a trainer, I promise m’not just being creepy.” 

It’s then that Louis notices the name tag pinned to the front of his shirt, having swapped out the workout gear from yesterday for a uniform. Louis hates that he looks just as good in that as he did before, arms and chest still obviously straining the tacky shirt. He can only picture the rippling muscles underneath. 

“Do I - was I doing it wrong?” He’s already flushed and panting from before so he doesn’t think it’s noticeable when he blushes, worried he’s managed to embarrass himself on only his second day. He hadn’t been aware there was a wrong way to  _ squat _ , but he wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one who managed to figure out how to mess it up. 

“Not wrong,” Harry offers, “You just need to hold yourself up a bit more.” And then, like something out of Louis’ fantasies, he steps beside him and drops down into his own squat, his hands out in front of him, showing him what it should look like. “Try it like this,” he says. 

Louis breathes in through his nose and mirrors his position, a newfound burning sensation in his thighs without his calves holding up his weight. Harry looks like he’s sitting in an invisible chair without so much as a wince. 

“Oh,” Louis frowns. “Ow.” 

“Yeah, if it’s burning you’re doing it right,” Harry chuckles. “Try it again.” 

Glancing over, Louis gets momentarily distracted by the muscles in Harry’s thigh that tense when he moves to stand again before he shakes his head. As if he hadn’t been ashamed enough, he has to put a hand down on the ground to push himself out of it while Harry’s pose had all been one fluid motion. 

After doing some earlier, even if they’d been incorrect, Louis’ body is protesting. But, to avoid the judgment, he gets into position once again and drops down. His limbs quite literally quiver as he fights to hold himself off of the ground, only able to hold it for a second or two before he has to stand up. 

“You should try boxing,” Harry suggests after a moment. 

Louis heaves a dry, tired laugh, bitterly amused that Harry’s managed to realize already just how out of shape he is. 

“Not because you’re bad at this,” he rushes. “Just because everyone has their strengths. If you think you might have more power in your arms you should give it a shot.” 

_I don’t have power_ _anywhere_ , Louis thinks. But he nods toward Harry anyway, standing one last time and grabbing his water bottle to head to the ring he’d seen him in before. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean today,” he says. 

“Why not?” 

“Well, you’ll be sore tomorrow from all of this and I don’t think you should push yourself quite so hard yet. But we’ll build up to it,” Harry assures him. He hands Louis a clean towel to dry his forehead, smiling. “Meet me at the ring tomorrow, same time?” 

“Sure,” Louis sighs.  _ Why not _ , he figures demurely. 

He still isn’t entirely certain Harry’s not just doing this to make fun of him, but it’s the most attention he’s gotten in weeks and he’s growing desperate at this point. The fact that he doesn’t look disgusted yet is just a plus. He’ll see soon enough just how pathetic Louis is at all of this and he’ll regret offering his help. But for now, Louis will take it. 

He leaves with a quick goodbye to Harry, grimacing at the feel of his sweat soaked shirt against his car seat. He’d like to shower at the gym but it’s a bit of a phobia for him. Louis hates the thought of being so publicly nude, vulnerable to anyone who might accidentally pull the curtain open or try to watch him while he changes. 

So he shakes his head and starts the car anyway, blasting the cool AC over his face while he pulls out of the parking lot. He hadn’t even been there for more than an hour and yet he feels simultaneously more lost and productive than he has since he decided to go in the first place. 

Niall texts him as he’s about to pull away. 

_ want to grab coffee?  _

Louis knows what he means. He means that he knows something’s wrong, probably has known for a while now, and he wants to give Louis a chance to vent. But he doesn’t feel like he’s quite there yet. Niall is his closest friend, but that’s all the more reason Louis wants to spare him his pathetic sob story. 

_ can’t tonight, _ Louis types back.  _ sorry _ . 

Niall reads it, but he doesn’t say anything else. 

+

Louis’ decided he doesn’t like the gym. 

He’d shown up early, just in time to catch the tail end of Harry’s own boxing session before starting Louis’. It’d even inspired him just a bit, watching how smooth his movements were and the satisfying sound that shook the room when his glove hit the bag. If he’s honest, he’d mainly just been focused on the intimidating scowl on his face the entire time. Louis should  _ not _ have found it as attractive as he had. 

It’d all gone downhill from there. As soon as Harry noticed him standing there he’d come over to say hello, slipping off his own gloves to find some for Louis to wear. In shorts that fall just below his knees and another t-shirt, Louis ogles Harry’s tank top and wonders if he’ll ever be brave enough to wear something that revealing. 

“Alright, c’mon,” Harry says, offering a hand. 

To top everything off, Harry’d been right when he said Louis would be sore. His thighs are burning awfully bad, making him wince each time he takes a step. It takes everything in him not to groan openly when he helps Louis up into the empty ring, strapping a black mitt onto his hand while Louis’ eyes stray off to the side to the black punching bag on the floor. 

“Wait a second - I’m not fighting you,” Louis shakes his head. 

Harry laughs openly, “No, you aren’t fighting me. We’re just practicing for now. You’re going to punch my hand until we get your form right.” 

“But you were using the punching bag,” Louis frowns. He isn’t athletic in the slightest, but he thinks he could handle hitting a stationary  _ bag _ . 

“Do you know how to punch already?” He asks, strapping thick gloves onto Louis’ smaller hands. The smallest size still engulfs them with room to spare. Harry tightens them as much as he can, waiting for his answer. 

Louis bites his lip, glancing between him and the bag off to the side. “No,” he admits. 

Smiling, Harry just raises his hands and refocuses. Positioning them in the middle of the ring, he raises his hands up in front of him. It’s intimidating on its own, and even just pretending to fight him gets his blood pumping harder in his ears. 

“Stand like this, yeah?” 

He nudges Louis’ feet apart slightly, showing him the correct stance. “You’ll want to do it like this,” Harry says, miming a perfectly structured slow-motion punch for Louis to practice. 

They run through it a few times while Louis asks questions, punching a hypothetical bag. After a few minutes he feels like he’s got a good enough handle on it, having tried it himself and seeing Harry do it earlier. It won’t have the same effect as he had, surely, but he has to admit he’s the slightest bit excited to try it out. 

“Now, hit me right here, as hard as you can.” 

Louis feels like there’d been enough buildup for it to be at least somewhat alright, his arm tensing up for the impact. He focuses his eyes where Harry told him to hit with a determined glance. Rearing his arm backward, he inhales and braces himself. 

His fist collides with the mitt with nothing more than a blunt, quiet pat. Louis thinks he might start crying. 

Quickly stifling his laugh, Harry shakes his head until his smile returns back to neutral. “That - that was good.” 

“I’m quitting,” Louis says seriously, trying to rip the gloves off without his fingers to no avail.

“You’re not quitting,” Harry rolls his eyes. “Everyone starts somewhere - you just need some more practice.” 

He must not understand, Louis thinks. Fighting with the strap until it finally loosens, Louis slips them off and hands them back to Harry more forcefully than necessary, crossing back over to the side of the ring and ducking underneath the wires to step down. 

Breathing picking up, he stumbles on his untied shoelace and unintentionally adds salt to his proverbial wound. With burning cheeks he stomps over to the wall to lean on while he bends down to re-tie it before he leaves. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Harry jump over the side of the ring and walk over. 

“Look, Harry, you’re very nice and I appreciate that you’re trying to help me, but - I’m never going to be good at anything here. I’m just not made for this kind of thing. It was stupid of me to think that I was. I should go cancel my membership,” Louis rattles off his rant, yanking on the loose lace of his shoe while he sniffs back frustrated tears. 

“Hey, hey,” Harry stops him, gently pushing him back down onto the chair behind him. Already feeling defeated, Louis goes down easily. “The point of coming here isn’t to be  _ good _ at something,” he says. Kneeling down, he pulls Louis’ foot onto his lap and untangles the loose laces. “You obviously got the membership for a reason, yeah? There’s some reason you wanted to come here.” Lowering it back to the ground after he’s tied a neat bow, he glances back up to Louis, “Don’t give up so easily. We’ll find something you can do - something you can enjoy.” 

“We?” Louis asks, a bitter laugh escaping his throat as he wipes at his eye with the back of his hand. 

“Yes,  _ we _ . I help people figure out these kinds of things all the time. Trust me, you’re not alone. And you aren’t as bad as you think you are.” 

Louis’ hard frown softens some, his back sagging against the chair. 

“If you feel comfortable telling me, why  _ did _ you get your membership?” Harry asks. 

Pausing for a few moments to figure out how to put it into words, Louis purses his lips. “I miss when people told me they liked the way I looked. When I would go out and be confident. Now people just say that I’m too fat and I didn’t think that at first but - but none of my clothes fit anymore,” he ends on an embarrassing whine, suddenly overcome at being able to talk to someone about all of this. 

Niall and his other friends are supportive but they don’t offer much other than halfhearted dismissals. Every time Louis mentions his weight they wave him off, telling him not to worry about it, that he looks great and it’s all in his head. He needs those types of friends in his life sometimes too, he supposes, but it’s nice to just talk openly about it with someone that doesn’t offer  _ any _ kind of judgement - just helpful advice should he take it or not. 

“Your body grows and changes all the time, Louis. Everyone’s does. You have to pay attention to hormones and diet changes, anything could cause a fluctuation. Even stress, for example, or sleep.” Harry shrugs like it’s simple. “It’s not a bad thing. As long as you’re happy and healthy it shouldn’t affect anything else.” 

“I used to like the way I look,” he mutters, not ready to let go of his bad mood so easily just yet. 

“What did you used to like?” 

“My, uhm, my waist, I guess. My legs,” Louis shrugs. 

“What else?” 

Huffing, Louis sags as he tries to think back to what he used to like. “I used to be, like, firm, y’know. Not - not as soft as I am now. Which isn’t, like, bad, but I like knowing I could defend myself if I needed to.” He pauses, his lower lip jutting out. “I can’t think of anything else.” 

Harry stands and crosses over to the other corner of the room, grabbing his phone from underneath his change of clothes. He stands there for a minute, typing away at the screen, before nodding to himself and walking back over to Louis without looking up. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m going to make you a workout plan,” Harry tells him. 

“No - you don’t have to do that, Harry. I’m not even paying you,” Louis hesitates, shaking his head. He feels guilty enough that he’s taking time away from Harry’s other paying clients without him making a personalized workout plan for him. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he soothes, still typing. “I’ll send it to you and that way you’ll have it even when I’m busy. S’not a big deal.” 

Louis tries to focus on the fact that he’ll have a good workout and less on the fact that he’s going to get Harry’s phone number. “I - thank you,” he sighs. 

He stays for a few minutes longer while Harry asks him a few more questions, then grabs his bag and stands to leave. He throws one last smile and thank you over his shoulder, hoping Harry hadn’t seen him walk straight into the glass door on his way out. 

+

To his surprise, Harry’s workout plan is perfect for him. It doesn’t go without faults necessarily, but it helps to go in with some sort of plan instead of just trying random stretches and hoping there’s a difference when he looks in the mirror afterward. 

It’s obvious just how much time Harry spent on it, too. He’s got names and examples for each machine and exercise, and a brief explanation of what it’s supposed to do and how it aligns with Louis’ goals. The entire thing makes his heart soar in his chest when his phone pings with it the next afternoon, texting back a simple  _ thank you  _ because he’s unsure of how to express all of his gratitude. 

In fact, Louis’ so anxious to see if they work for him that he heads straight to his bedroom to get dressed, leaving for the gym even though he hadn’t been planning on going at all today. He tells himself it’s because of the workout plan and not seeing Harry that he drives a bit faster all the way there. 

Each of his recommendations are fairly self explanatory when he reads over them, and they seem doable for someone of his abilities. People are beginning to leave when he shows up but Louis knows they’re open for another two hours. Harry’s got him moving from stretches to the treadmill to the elliptical and a few jumping jacks in between all of it, lifting weights and trying new positions. The mix is definitely high energy, but once Louis gets the hang of it he can’t stop himself. He pays attention to the time limits for a beginner, though, restricting himself on each portion so he doesn’t go too far or hurt himself on his first try. 

He’s finishing up just as Harry emerges from the offices on his far right, grinning when he sees Louis. 

“How’s the routine going?” He asks, coming up to lean against the machine next to Louis’ with his arms crossed. 

“It’s perfect,” Louis tells him. “Thank you, Harry, really. I can  _ do _ all of this.” 

“I told you, you just need to find what you can do. There’s no right or wrong, but it’s good to push yourself.” 

His smile makes Louis smile, and then they’re both just standing there with goofy grins on their faces until Louis clears his throat with a blush, eyes widening at the time when his phone lights up. 

“Yeah, well. Thank you,” he says again. “I’m just about to head out, I know you just closed. I’ll get my things and let you lock up.” 

Harry nods but pauses when Louis steps off the machine and makes a noise at his wet shirt, peeling it off of his stomach quickly with two fingers so it won’t cling to his overheated skin. 

“You can go ahead and shower, if you want,” Harry tells him. “I’ve got the key to lock up and I usually stay late anyway.”

“Really?” Louis asks, “Are you sure?” 

He nods again in Louis’ direction. “Take your time - I’m in the room next door if you need anything.” 

Sighing gratefully, Louis takes him up on the offer, rounding the corner into the locker room to get to the showers once Harry’s left. It all feels too open like he’d been afraid of, but the knowledge that the gym is closed makes him feel better. Even if the most attractive man he’s ever seen is on the other side of the wall. 

He tries to avoid that thought completely as he pulls the curtain shut in one of the stalls before he undresses. Clothes in a small pile right outside of the cubicle, he stands back with a hand to his chest as he turns on the water and waits for it to warm. He’s grateful he paid for one of the nicer gyms, tiny complimentary shampoos and body washes available at his leisure. He picks one and washes his hair quickly, soaping up the rest of his body thoroughly. 

It feels amazing to wash off directly afterward instead of driving home filthy and showering at home like he usually does. Maybe he can keep coming in the afternoon and work something out with Harry to keep it open for him. 

He snickers at himself inside of his head. He’s going to have to get over his little crush preferably sooner than later, although the end doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight as of now. The attention is wonderful but Louis knows it won’t last much longer. Harry’s probably one of those guys that gets off on knowing he had a hand in making other people look good, in helping the people that come in and seem helpless - like Louis. None of that changes the fact that Louis wishes he’d rip him out of his clothes and take him in the boxing ring after hours. 

It  _ also _ doesn’t change the fact that Louis’ not quite that confident in himself just yet. Slowly but surely there is progress being made (which Harry is mostly to thank for), but there’s still a very long way to go. Not that Harry would want him like that anyway, he muses. Even if he  _ did _ look a bit better. 

Shaking his head under the spray to clear his messy thoughts, he rinses the rest of the body wash from his back and shoulders before turning the water off and reaching outside of the cubicle for a fresh towel off the table. 

Only when he’s got it wrapped around him does he realize that he hadn’t brought a change of clothes. Unfortunately, that isn’t one of the things the gym provides. 

Already panicking, Louis glances helplessly back down to his sweaty clothes on the tile below him. He bites his lip. He could just put those back on but they’d be filthy, and he doesn’t really fancy the idea of getting so dirty again right after showering off. 

Letting his forehead thunk against the ceramic divider, he clenches his jaw with his eyes pinched shut.  _ It’s always something _ , he thinks. Louis sucks in a deep breath and brings the towel up until it's wrapped around his chest as well, effectively covering him from his collar bones to mid thigh. 

“Harry?” He calls, barely poking his head out of the curtain. 

It isn’t loud enough and he knows it isn’t, but he’s still hoping for a miracle where Harry  _ won’t _ have to come in here and see him half naked. Louis doesn’t want to  _ scare _ him. But, he doesn’t show up even after a few minutes pass, so he steps further out and tries again. 

“Harry?” 

When he gets no response from that either, Louis sighs and yanks open the curtain. Maybe if he stands at the edge of the open archway of the bathrooms and calls out, he’ll be able to tell Harry not to come inside. He can just ask for clothes and that’ll be that. No trauma necessary. 

He tiptoes across the bathroom floor barefoot, still dripping water as he goes. Staring at his body instead of where he’s going, he starts to call for him again but stops short when he bumps into a hard chest. 

“Har-  _ oh _ . I -” he cuts himself off before he can make it worse, his fist clenched so hard in the material of the towel that his knuckles turn white and blend in with it. 

Harry’s eyes fall from his eyes to his lips to the top of his chest where droplets of water still sit, slipping over his skin. His breath seems quicker and hotter as it spreads across Louis’ cheeks, glancing down at Louis in return. His own shoulders rise and fall fast with his nerves. If he thought he had any sort of chance with Harry before, he probably never will now. 

Years before, Louis might’ve thought he recognized the look in Harry’s eyes. If they’d been in a bar he might’ve teased him a bit, flirted and taken him up on a drink and the possibility of a date. Here -  _ now _ , he just feels inadequate. After a few too many putdowns to his self esteem he can’t tell anything anymore unless someone says it outright. 

They never do. 

His gaze falls to Harry’s chest to avoid his eyes, swallowing thickly. He tries to make his mouth work but it won’t, his throat dry and emotional at being caught like this in front of the one person he’d been attracted to after so long. 

“Did - did you need something?” Harry asks, less than a breath away from him since neither of them have tried to move. 

“I don’t, uhm, I haven’t got any clothes with me,” he whispers. “Sorry.” 

Harry leans in the slightest bit and inhales so quickly Louis thinks he imagined it, then turns on his heel and leaves the room. Slumping sideways against the wall, Louis blinks a few times to get rid of the haze. He’s so -  _ confused _ . 

But he doesn’t have time to think about that either because Harry returns, a clean change of clothes in his hands. “Here you go,” he says, voice deep and words deliberately slow. 

“Thanks,” Louis says quietly. 

Once again he waits while Harry looks him over, his teeth sliding over his bottom lip, bruising the flesh as it turns from white to red. Louis gets a bit lost in the sight himself. Soon enough, Harry turns his back to him for some privacy. 

Stuttering, Louis hesitates. He hadn’t really known he’d have to change with him  _ in the room _ . Oddly enough, he trusts him not to turn around, but it does little to soothe his nerves. There’s always a chance. 

Gulping, Louis’ hand tightens up on the towel once more before he drops it altogether, the sound of the sopping material hitting the floor all too loud in the large, empty room. He freezes for a second, petrified that Harry will turn around and laugh, but he doesn’t. His broad back stays facing away from him, his arms crossed over his chest and his head down. 

He rushes to pull on Harry’s clothes even though his skin is still damp, the shirt hanging off of him and the pants not much better. Harry brought him boxers too, but he has to roll them several times to even get them to stay on properly underneath the trainers. Clearing his throat lightly, Louis picks up the towel to toss in the bin, stuffs his old clothes in a take home bag, and latches his hands together in front of him. 

“I’m finished,” he says. 

Harry’s no better when he takes in the sight of Louis in his clothes. Louis can’t tell if he’s angry or  _ what _ he’s feeling, but his brow is furrowed and his jaw is set to the side, his eyes no more than halfway open where they’re focused below Louis’ chin. 

“Are, uhm, are you ready to lock up?” 

Harry nods, speaking gruffly. “Yeah.” 

Though he says yes, he still doesn’t move for another full minute. Louis counts in his head. Somehow the entire exchange is the most erotic thing he’s ever experienced, his heart beating faster than it ever had over the course of his last relationship. Mouth dry, he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. 

At that motion Harry seems to snap out of his trance, blinking harshly and spinning toward the door. But instead of going through it himself, he only stands in the doorway with an arm out for Louis to go in front of him. 

Cheeks burning and his take home bag held tightly to his chest, Louis steps forward. He passes Harry slowly and too quickly all at once, momentarily encompassed by his scent and the warm temperature of his body heat. It’s over as soon as it begins, and he falls into step beside Louis as they walk back through the dark gym to the entrance. 

In the light of day it seems completely different than it does now. After hours, the gym is much more private, seeming intimate even, as they pass the boxing ring near the exit. When he glances over it’s difficult to make out much of anything, but he can see a streak of moonlight across Harry’s face. He follows it with his eyes until they make it outside to the cool night air. 

He stays silent while Harry locks the building and tests it afterward, making sure the security system is enabled. Their bags make identical noises as they bounce against their hips and Louis hopes it's enough to fill up the awkward silence because he’s got no idea what he could possibly say to soothe over the situation.  _ If _ there’s even anything to soothe, that is. 

“I’ll give you the clothes back tomorrow,” Louis says when he stops at his car, one of the only two left in the parking lot. 

“No-” Harry snaps, then softens, “I mean, no. Just - keep them.” 

Harry’s still fidgety when he stops behind the trunk of Louis’ car, his knuckles gripping the strap of his bag tightly. When he turns, Louis realizes he’s got it positioned conveniently over the front of his sweatpants. 

“Okay,” he relents softly, unable to take his eyes off of Harry’s face even as he fumbles embarrassingly with his keys. “I’ll - I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Yes,” Harry nods again. 

Eventually he manages to unlock his car under the tight gaze, tossing his own bag to the passenger side and waving to Harry where he still hasn’t moved. 

“Goodnight, Harry,” he tries. 

It finally seems to do the trick, Harry shaking his head and repeating his words, “G’night, Louis.” 

Ever the hypocrite, Louis slips into his car and slams the door shut, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of Harry until he’s gotten into his own car at the other end of the lot. He can’t seem to shake off the feeling in his chest, knowing he’s got no right to be feeling this way. He’s flustered and hot and anxious all because of - what, a bit of eye contact? 

In the rear view mirror he can see Harry pull out and drive past him to the street. Figuring he’s stayed here long enough as it is, he turns the key and backs out, falling into line behind Harry to turn out of the parking lot. He stays behind him until they reach the nearest light, Harry turning left while he goes right. Just before he does, Harry turns to him and waves one last time. Louis’ heart flutters in his chest. 

Yeah, he’s fucked. 

+

Louis hasn’t slept with anyone since the breakup. He figures that’s a reasonable enough excuse paired with his newfound insecurities, but in reality it goes deeper than that. He hasn’t slept with anyone, no, but he also hasn’t touched  _ himself _ that way. 

Which is just another testament to just how much he’s changed. It’d been a healthy way for him to relieve stress before, on days when his boyfriend would use him to get off and then promptly fall asleep. Louis’ right hand is something he’s exceedingly familiar with. Besides, he’s always thought it better anyway since he knows what he likes more than anyone else does. 

But - Louis can’t very well pick himself up or push himself around, can’t put a hand around his own throat or land a slap to his arse without feeling weird about it afterward. He can picture it vividly, though. 

When he shuts his eyes and imagines, he can see a broad chest, tattooed biceps and firm pecs, muscles bulging as they move. And that’s what he thinks of even when he’s just doing something simple, like the dishes or his laundry. He’s got Harry to thank for many things regarding his slowly returning confidence, but it’s more than that, too. 

Louis hasn’t felt sexy enough to do anything of the sort for months now. A few times he’d started, caught sight of his fleshy hip or a stretch mark and pulled away. He’d wipe his hand off on the duvet and fall asleep restless and unsatisfied yet again. 

That isn’t a problem anymore. After the shower incident with Harry the other night, he’d gone back to his flat, unable to shake off the burning feeling in his tummy. Talking himself out of it had been pointless. He’d attempted to fall asleep at first, figuring he could just ignore it. 

In the end, he’d ended up with visions of the other man behind his eyelids. He pictured what it’d be like to be with him, how he would move, where he would decide to take him. If it’d be after hours or if he wouldn’t be able to wait, shoving Louis over his desk with a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet while people went about their lives right outside the door. 

He ruts down into his sheets mindlessly until it gets to be too much. Within minutes he’s dirty all over again despite the shower at the gym, hot cum trapped between his body and the sheets and burning his skin, effectively ending his drought. 

That night he falls asleep with a smile on his face instead of the usual frown, already excited to go back to the gym even having just left an hour before. 

+

It definitely changes things. And it happens fast, so fast that Louis has trouble processing what’s just happened at first. His day starts off like it usually does. Louis turns off his alarm, makes a light breakfast, changes his clothes, and heads for the gym before he can talk himself out of it. He doesn’t even remember everything from the night prior. 

And then he sees him again. Louis couldn’t find him at first, roaming the hallways pathetically until he began to get worried he was avoiding him altogether. But then, at the back of the second floor, he’s there. 

Harry swimming is a sight Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget. The memories and feelings from the night before come rushing back at once, his eyes caught on his breaststroke as his head appears and disappears underneath the water. His body and movements seem as smooth as always as he glides against the light waves he’s created. Louis aches to reach past the glass and touch him, to run his fingers over the wet, tattooed skin, but he can’t. He steps back from the entrance to the pool and walks away before he’s caught. 

There’s only a few minutes until he’s supposed to meet him for his workout anyway, so he heads back to the first floor and waits for him at the machines by his office. He’s going to have to get a hold of himself at some point, but it just seems so difficult when he’s constantly faced with  _ Harry _ . It seems like a cruel type of karma to tease him with someone so close and yet so far out of his own league. He’d thought maybe there’d been something there but the harsh light of day provides him another point of view - it’d been dark and private the night before and intimate in a way that doesn't usually happen for them. That’s all it’d been. Or, at least that’s what he tells himself. 

“Morning,” Harry clears his throat, unlocking his office to put down his things before coming back out. 

“Morning,” Louis replies, trying to keep his eyes elsewhere and not on the dripping wet skin of Harry’s neck. He’d dried off with a towel but he’d missed a few spots, the collar of his thin t-shirt damp with the evidence. “I was just about to start,” he tells him. 

“I was thinking we could try something else today,” Harry’s brow furrows as he stares hard at the floor between them, “If - if that’s alright with you.” 

“Sure,” Louis breathes. 

Harry walks over to the wall with weights on it, forgoing the smaller ones he’s been using and heading toward a long barbell instead. Curiously, Louis watches as he almost lifts one, then changes his mind and picks up another, heavier looking one. He’s lifting it with no issue, but Louis thinks it could probably crush him if he’s not careful. 

“Harry,” Louis starts, “I don’t think I can lift that.” 

“I’ll spot you,” he insists. 

It doesn’t leave much room for an argument so Louis lets himself be nudged where Harry wants him in front of the mirror, making a show of lifting the barbell far above Louis’ head and then lowering it down to his height in front of him, level with Louis’ stomach while he’s standing close behind him in case he drops it. Catching his eye one last time, Louis reaches for it with both hands. 

“Put your hands here,” Harry says, using his elbow to maneuver his stance until it’s correct. 

He relinquishes his hold only after he’s certain Louis’ got it in his grip. Gradually, he moves his hands underneath Louis’ arms to hold him steady. He’s close enough that the thought alone sends him blushing again. 

“Like this?” Louis breathes, chancing a glance over his shoulder. 

He thinks he’s beginning to sweat already but he can’t be sure, Harry’s own shirt drenched from his earlier workout, too. Pressed up completely against Louis’ back, his broad chest rises and falls and Louis’ leaning so far back into him that he’s moving with it. His hands slip from his elbows to his waist. 

“Just like that,” Harry says, a scratchy undertone to his voice as he grips Louis’ hips harder, his nose dipping down to the curve of his neck. 

His lips are at the outside of his ear, Louis’ eyes slipping shut as his hair stands on end and his stomach drops with sharp, heady arousal. He’d been close with his ex but not necessarily  _ intimate _ . Right now, with Harry, he feels like they’re locked away in their own private world despite being in a public gym with people buzzing around on the other side of the room. Anyone could look over right now, could see the two of them pressed together far closer than they should be. 

Louis’ slick hands lose the tight grip he’d had on the weight and Harry rushes to grab it so it won’t hurt him, the barbell only managing to drop a few inches before it stops in midair. Louis isn’t even holding it up anymore but Harry’s got his arms slid on either side of his waist again to keep his grip on it. 

Louis’ locked in between him and the barbell.

Feeling more brave than he has over the last few weeks, he sucks in a careful breath before pushing backward with his hips, biting his lip when Harry hisses in his ear. 

“Louis,” he warns, his knuckles white where they’re clutching the bar in front of Louis’ body. 

Shifting his weight onto his other foot, Louis tilts his head to the side and pushes up on his toes, the curve of his arse fitting snugly into Harry’s crotch. With a poorly muffled groan, Harry’s head falls into the space above his shoulder. He noses at the sweat-soaked skin, his teeth barely scraping the surface as he bites his own lip. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Harry curses, “D’you have  _ any _ idea what you’re doing to me?” 

Instead of answering him and risking losing his nerve, Louis’ breath hitches, his hips undulating backwards and forwards. He’s so caught up in it now that he doesn’t think he could stop, drunk off of the thought of someone wanting him again. He’ll take what he can get, apparently. 

Suddenly Harry seems to drop his resolve, lowering the barbell until it’s resting in front of Louis’ hips, and then he pulls it back into him,  _ hard _ . It knocks Louis back into his body even tighter, the surprised gasp escaping his lips before he can stop it. 

“Oh,” he whimpers, letting Harry use him as he grinds roughly against him from behind. 

He imagines what it’d be like if they were here after hours once again, if Harry would take him on one of the machines or in the locker room or in the showers. If he’d have him on his back or if he’d do it from behind, where Louis could see him fucking into him in any of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that span the entire room. 

Harry seems like a switch has been flipped. Louis thinks it’s lucky that this floor is nearly empty today because he isn’t trying to hide anything anymore, his breathing harsh and hot as he knocks them forward with his movements and uses the equipment to control the pace of Louis’ hips. 

It’s all too much to be doing in public and Louis feels a bit like he could combust, but he doesn’t even care. He isn’t thinking about what he ate last when Harry growls in his ear, isn’t worried about how he looks - not when he feels so  _ good _ . It’s a phony attempt at self confidence but at the moment it’s working wonders for him, feeling wanted and safe inside of muscled arms. 

Whining quietly, Louis tries to utilize the small space he has by working his own hips forward into the barbell and back into Harry. It’s amazing and Louis feels hotter than he has in  _ months _ and the image of Harry’s arms bulging on either side of him is going to be etched into his brain forever now. When he concentrates and closes his eyes, he thinks he could come from this alone. 

“Harry?” 

One of the other members of the gym is standing beside them when Louis opens his eyes. They both freeze, her voice tearing through the mood they’d created. Behind him, Harry clears his throat but his voice still comes out raspy when he speaks. 

“Can I help you?” 

_ Yes _ , Louis thinks. 

“Yeah,” she says, “I needed some help resetting that machine over there. I think I’ve messed it all up,” she points, giggling and oblivious while Harry adjusts his grip on the barbell. 

“I’ll be over in a second,” Harry nods. 

He’s still breathing hard against the back of Louis’ neck, his heart beat hard enough that Louis feels it through their clothes. He’d been close himself and he guesses Harry had been as well, his cock achingly hard where it’s pressed against his lower back. Grunting, Harry leans down to whisper in his ear once she’s walked away. 

“You’ll - I’ve got to set this down. You’ll have to lean with me,” he says, the words sounding like they’re physically paining him. Shivering, Louis begins to bend forward, Harry plastered firmly to his back all the way down until he’s bent in half on top of him. “Fuck,” he hisses. 

“Sorry,” Louis whimpers. 

“Don’t -” Harry chokes, his hips jutting forward into Louis’ arse so hard that he jerks forward until Harry catches him. “Shit, sorry.” 

It takes them longer than it should to stand up straight again, Harry’s hands on his hips the entire way now that he’s no longer carrying the equipment. His grip tightens up to the point where Louis thinks he might not be able to take it anymore before it leaves him altogether. 

Harry curses again to himself as he adjusts his trousers accordingly. Eyes falling there unbidden, Louis’ mouth runs dry. Before he can say anything else, Harry’s running a hand over his face and apologizing. 

“I’m so sorry, I - that was so unprofessional.”

“I didn’t-” Louis shakes his head, lowering his voice so no one else will hear and keeping his hands covering the front of his shorts, “I didn’t mind.” 

“I didn’t make you uncomfortable?” Harry’s brows furrow, his hands twitching, Louis’ gaze following the tight movement. 

“No,” Louis gulps. 

Throughout every time they’ve worked out together, this is the only time Louis’ seen sweat beading on his forehead. It happens when he’s boxing sometimes too, but he feels an unexpected rush of pride at having that effect on him. He knows Harry has enough of one on  _ him _ in return. Eyelids half shut and gaze dark, Harry regards him carefully. 

“What would you say to private lessons from now on?” Harry says. 

Louis nods quickly, “Yes.” 

He’s still a bit out of it and he thinks Harry can tell, his nostrils flaring out and his eyes lighting up when Louis sways on his feet, blinking to clear his glassy vision. He’d probably do just about anything he asked him to at this point. 

But that isn’t possible right now, evident in the way the girl on the other side of the room keeps glancing at them and tapping her foot, so he’ll have to wait. He decides he’ll keep himself distracted by dreaming up what Harry might have him do in a  _ private _ workout session. 

“I’ll text you, yeah?” Harry speaks calmly and clearly to him. He backs away slowly, waiting for Louis’ nod. Even as he’s helping the girl he keeps looking over to check on him, crossing his legs awkwardly to hide the evidence of how worked up they’d gotten. 

This time when Louis walks out of the gym, he does so giggling. He laughs all the way to his car as soon as the heavy fog in his head lifts, a bright grin set on his face. He feels high from the attention, at the fact that someone as attractive as Harry would invite him up to the gym after hours. Maybe he  _ hadn’t _ been imagining it after all. 

When he gets back to his flat he throws his old clubbing clothes in the bin, opening up his phone to look up a good brand of yoga pants. 

+

Over the next few weeks, they come up with somewhat of a routine fairly quickly. They’re able to coexist together while they each do their own workouts, although sometimes Louis spends more time watching than he does anything else. And, if he’s really honest, Harry rarely gets to do his own workout because he’s making sure Louis isn’t dropping the equipment. 

Today, though, he’s bench pressing a heavy weight only a few feet away from where Louis’ been trying to focus on his stationary biking. A few times he’d deliberately arched his back to see if Harry would look over, but he only continues diligently lifting the barbell. 

Somehow, through no fault of his own, he ends up sitting on Harry’s lap while he does. Laid out across the machine, it’s all too easy for Louis to situate himself on his lower stomach, able to feel every clench of Harry’s abdomen as he lifts the bar again and again. His face had been hard set before as he let out harsh, practiced breaths through his mouth but it softens into a light smile at Louis’ actions. 

“Is it heavy?” Louis asks, poking at his straining bicep. 

“Yes,” Harry chuckles and winces, readjusting his grip. 

Louis enjoys watching him -  _ thoroughly _ , but he’s beginning to get a bit restless. Over their last few sessions Harry’s given him far too much attention for his own good, and he’s gotten sufficiently drunk on it each time. It’s selfish because Harry has to do his own workouts early in the morning before they open and then also stay late after close for Louis, but he never complains. It’d sounded like a good idea at first to sit back and watch, but now he’s reconsidering. 

Harry said not to distract him but when has Louis ever complied so easily? 

“We could do something else instead,” he says suggestively, raising a brow and running a finger down Harry’s chest without looking him in the eye. 

While they haven’t been able to keep their hands off of each other, none of it has escalated further than the week before. It’s the only reason that Louis’ being so forward now, now that he knows Harry feels the same way. He feels a bit like he’s in the beginning stages of a budding relationship, overcome with quiet, hopeful excitement. That being said, he’s eager to move things along, but he doesn’t want to put himself too far out there and risk the sting of well-known rejection. 

“What, did you want me to lift you instead?” Harry muses, grinning cockily, finally setting the bar down to the side with a grunt. 

“What?” Louis bristles, turning with him. He glances down at the stubborn fat on his hip that never seems to go away. He probably shouldn’t have sat on him in the first place. “No - you can’t.” 

“You think I can’t lift you?” Harry takes it as a challenge, a smirk set across his lips. 

“I’m too heavy, Harry, you can’t -” 

Within seconds he’s literally using his body as a weight, rotating Louis sideways and lifting up and down with his hands secured around his neck and legs. Squealing, Louis makes his body taut, tries not to glance down or to the side, and hopes he won’t fall. Harry’s grip remains firm, lifting him up toward the ceiling before bringing him back into his chest with a cheesy grin. 

“I can’t -  _ believe _ you,” Louis huffs breathlessly. 

“You should have known better than to challenge me on this,” he chuckles, lifting him a few more times for good measure before letting him get situated again with a leg thrown over either side of his waist. 

Unsteady at first, Louis clutches onto his bicep until he feels steady. Harry hasn’t even broken a sweat when he glances down at him, but he isn’t surprised at this point. His hand seems even smaller than it usually does pressed up against Harry’s arm, his fingernails digging in slightly. All at once he’s back to the first time they’d been so close, heady and warm in their own private area of space. 

One moment he’s running his eyes over Harry’s face while Harry does the same in return, and the next he’s got lips on his own. 

Harry kisses just like he does everything else, really, demanding and harsh but firm and comforting all the same. His hands frame Louis’ face and easily span the length of it, cradled comfortably in his grip. With his wide mouth, he easily overwhelms Louis’ attempts to contribute anything himself, caught too off guard to offer much else but his soft, breathless whimpers. 

He hates to keep comparing them, but his ex was never a big fan of kissing. It used to leave Louis craving more of that intimate atmosphere but never quite able to find it. Somehow, every time he’s been with Harry, it’s like everything else falls away. He’s all Louis can seem to focus on. 

When his hand slips from Louis’ cheek to grip his throat he can’t hold it together anymore. He grinds down with a gasp, Harry’s own hips cradling the movement in quick response. With the gym to themselves he feels more confident, quiet noises escaping his lips. 

It all seems to move so quickly that Louis struggles to keep up, but he knows he can’t let the moment go to waste. They had all of the necessary ingredients before, when Harry had him trapped between himself and the barbell, but they’d been interrupted. Now, when Louis glances slowly around the empty gym floor, there is no one to stop them. 

He halfway feels like they should move somewhere more private but he doesn’t really know where they would go. There’s a sofa in Harry’s office but, currently, he seems intent on staying  _ right _ where he is. 

Louis bends to look him in the eye, cutting himself off with a moan when Harry bucks upward and nearly throws him off. “Should we -” 

“No, no, just -  _ God _ , Louis, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this with you. Don’t think I can wait anymore.” 

True to his word, Harry gets a hand between them and wastes no time getting either of them undressed before he’s got Louis’ leaking prick in his big hand. Louis stumbles even though he’s sitting, scrambling to hold himself up with a hand on the machine next to Harry’s head. 

It’s rushed for the first time they ever touch each other and nothing like the teasing build up Louis’d imagined, but he’s getting off on it so much he doesn’t even care. He fumbles to get his fingers around Harry as well who ruts upward again, knocking Louis flat to his chest and trapping their wrists between them. It’s hot and spontaneous and nothing like he’s had the pleasure of feeling before. The details get lost somewhere in the hurry to get themselves off - no time to worry about how he looks, even if he does hide his face in Harry’s neck when he feels like he’s about to come just to be safe. 

Shaking through his orgasm as Harry continues to flick his fingers over his sensitive prick, Louis writhes on top of him but relishes in the way his other arm comes up to secure him to his chest. Because of the timing, though, Louis recovers enough to raise his head just as Harry shouts his own release. 

While he’s insecure about his own orgasm face, he certainly hopes Harry isn’t. He’s got absolutely no reason to be with his obscenely open mouth and dark eyes, deeply focused on Louis’ as he shoots between them so hard that some of it marks Louis’ chin. And he comes for what feels like ages although it’s only been seconds, Louis clinging desperately to his broad shoulders as he bucks them both upwards in a haze. 

Surely he’s got to be tired now because Louis feels  _ boneless _ . He lays down properly with his ear over Harry’s pec, exhausted from the best orgasm he’s had in  _ years _ . But Harry loves surprising him and he gives himself only a moment to even his breathing before he’s standing so fast that Louis gets whiplash. He tosses Louis over his shoulder even as he squeals, reaching up to grab at the swell of his arse cockily. Trying to keep from getting dizzy, he grabs onto Harry’s hips upside down and lets himself be carried. 

“Gotta get cleaned up,” Harry mutters, crossing the threshold to the showers. 

Louis’d been afraid that things would be weird if anything ever happened between them before. He’d thought surely Harry would realize he isn’t worth it and would make it clear that he was no longer interested. Once again, he’s been proved wrong. 

Harry is just as wonderful and respectful as always as he wets a wash rag and wipes them both down without looking at anything Louis doesn’t want him to, making him laugh as he pokes at Louis’ sides until he caves. They giggle like schoolboys in a way that Louis sometimes dreams he could have once in some alternate, nostalgic reality. 

There aren’t any familiar traces of guilt lingering around them. Louis doesn’t feel like he’s made a mistake or crossed any boundaries that made him uncomfortable, even as Harry bumps their shoulders together and makes small talk across the parking lot. And, as Harry honks twice and grins at him when they pull out into traffic, he definitely counts it as a win. 

+

The yoga room is empty when he shows up. Harry’s already said he’d be a tad late and that he’s with a client, telling him to make himself at home while he waits. Louis thinks this might be better if he tries it alone first, anyway. He adores all of Harry’s support, but the last thing he wants him to see is Louis’ pants ripping down the middle when he botches a pose. Flipping the light switch on next to the door, he hugs the yoga mat he’d bought a few days prior tighter underneath his arm and lets the door fall softly shut behind him. 

It’s quiet save for some background music playing overhead, calming instead of the pounding bass in the rest of the gym, the sound of his vans tapping along the wood until he stops toward the front corner of the room. With two walls of mirrors and two of windows, Louis’ glad that it’s empty at the moment and the fact that this floor rises higher than the rest. He feels abundantly exposed. 

He slips his shoes off and sets them on the bench to the side, twisting back and forth and stretching out his arms the way Harry showed him before, then doing his legs. As he points his toes and flexes his feet, he hopes silently that this will all go fairly easy unlike everything else he’s tried thus far. 

By the time Harry’s ten minutes late, Louis’ already got the mat rolled out, the soft music playing through the speakers working wonders on his frayed nerves. He rolls his shoulders back repeatedly, turning his neck side to side until it feels loose. 

Pulling his phone out from his bag, he brings it over to where the mat is and pulls up the list he’d made last night. It’s got all different beginner poses along with some that Harry mentioned as well. He figures there’s not much use in waiting around for him to get here when he’s already got all of the information he needs. 

Louis begins with the most basic one. The example picture it provides is literally just someone standing there, but he trusts the process. Spreading his heels slightly apart, he faces the mirror, shuts his eyes and lets his arms hang limp. Despite his hesitance, he already feels calmer. He slowly rises on the balls of his feet before rotating them inwards like the website told him. 

He holds the pose for four entire breaths, then stands flat footed once again. The next one is the tree pose when he glances down at the screen which also doesn’t seem that difficult, but he’s never had fantastic balance. It’s going to be interesting, he thinks. 

Bringing one foot up to rest against the inside of his other knee, he glances into the mirror to make sure it looks right, then raises his hands above his head and presses them together. He shakes some as he tries to stay still, his hips swaying side to side to keep his balance, but in the end he’s able to hold it for a few seconds. Once he focuses and shuts his eyes again it doesn’t seem quite as difficult. 

He runs through a few more poses, dropping into a downward dog and feeling the comfortable burn on the backs of his thighs before doing a triangle pose, raising one hand high above his head. After he completes the cobra and child poses, he pauses to take a breath. 

Already he feels like something’s changed. When he lines his feet out in front of him and leans in toward the mirror, he can touch his toes with the tips of his fingers without flinching. He takes a few long sips of his water to psych himself up one last time. 

The last pose he’d wanted to try ends with him doing the splits. He’s apprehensive, but everything he’s tried so far has gone perfectly and he can’t shake the optimism from the forefront of his brain. If he’s here and he thinks he can do it, he’s damn well going to try it, he thinks. 

Taking one last deep breath to keep himself centered, Louis leans forward into the downward dog pose again, bracing his hands on the mat. When he feels balanced enough, he begins to barely raise one leg off the ground, letting it move higher and higher until it can’t go any further. Then he raises the other foot, too. Reminding himself to breathe, he shifts his hips until he’s doing the splits in the air which is arguably much easier than doing them on the floor. Still, he grins privately before moving onto the next part of the position. 

Slowly, Louis begins to rotate his body back toward the ground, trying to concentrate. If he does this correctly, he’ll end up with one leg out in front of him and one the opposite in the splits. If he doesn’t, he’ll leave with a sore tailbone and a few bruises. He hopes it’s the first one. 

He shuts his eyes as he tilts again, careful to keep his arms steady and his core firm. Using all of the strength he’s got left in his body, Louis breathes through the slight pain in his abdomen as he glides through the last step in slow motion. His leg slides through where it’s supposed to between his arms, leaving him facing the mirror, perfectly in the position. 

“I - I did it,” Louis gasps happily to himself. 

“Holy shit,” Harry huffs a stunned laugh. “I think you found your thing.” 

He’s leaning against the door frame when Louis’ eyes snap up to the mirror, his own gaze lingering on his pose. He can tell what Harry’s probably thinking from his face alone, and Louis’ cheeks flood with color. 

Harry stalks across the floor until he’s right behind him, offering a hand to help him stand up. Louis could probably do it on his own, but after all of the stretches and being stuck in the splits for a full minute, he’s grateful for the help. Slipping his smaller hand into Harry’s larger one, he gasps as Harry lifts him promptly to his feet without batting an eyelash. 

“Who knew,” he whispers, lips close to Louis’ ear. 

Louis spins so they’re face to face, reaching his arms high to wrap around Harry’s broad shoulders while his own circle around Louis’ waist. He hugs him tightly in his lingering excitement, a grin still on his face while he does. 

Before either of them can say anything else Harry’s hands slide lower on his hips, his thumbs brushing back and forth. He continues for a moment and then stops, his entire body freezing. 

“Are - are these-” Harry whimpers around a moan, choking, “yoga pants?” 

Louis giggles, nodding without looking at his face. 

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” he curses. 

His hands twitch in Louis’ shirt like he wants to reach down and grab his arse, but he gulps and returns them to safe territory respectfully with his eyes squeezed firmly shut. Louis appreciates his effort to change the subject while he’s still basking in his own excitement. 

“Really, I’m so proud of you, Louis,” Harry says softly. He hugs him tightly, then tenses and moves back just enough to see his face. “I mean- not that you need my support or anything, you’re amazing either way, just -” 

Louis kisses him to shut him up. He knows exactly what Harry’s trying to say, and maybe before he might’ve believed that sort of thing. Might’ve thought that somehow his confidence was linked to Harry instead of anything else. But he certainly doesn’t believe that now. 

He’d been so proud of himself for getting that pose right  _ privately _ . All of his achievements while he’s been coming here have been his own. It’s just a perk that he gets to enjoy it all with Harry’s encouragement. 

He pulls away with a wet smack, a gentle smile on his lips. “Thank you, Harry. It means a lot that you’re proud of me.” 

Burying his face in his shirt one last time, Louis lets himself be embraced for a few more minutes before they part. It’s probably the most tender moment he’s had with Harry, none of the background noise or pumping music in the background to distract them. 

He knows he could’ve accomplished all of this on his own but - he’s really, really glad Harry’s here, too. 

+

Typical of anyone who isn’t keen on showing off their bare chests, Louis’ never been much of a swimmer. Maybe once or twice in a friend’s hot tub, another time at one of his family member’s houses on holiday. He’s got a bathing suit at the back of his closet at home but it hasn’t been worn in ages. 

Which is why he panics when Harry says they should meet at the pool for a change of scenery. He goes back and forth until he ultimately makes himself late, debating on whether or not he should bring the swimsuit with him. In the end, it stays on the floor of his wardrobe and he speed walks to his car so he won’t have to think about it any longer. 

The pool isn’t easy to miss, large glass windows running the entire back length of the second floor, and Louis knows where it is anyway from catching Harry in there before. He heads for the elevator but decides to take the stairs at the last second, proud of himself for getting up three flights with only minor loss of breath. It’s progress. 

Door opening easily since Harry’d left it propped for him, he slips through silently and watches the man much like he had weeks before. He sets his bag on the floor without a sound inside of the entrance, toeing off his shoes and padding a few feet to the corner of the large pool. 

Harry’s breaststrokes are even and satisfying to watch as he swims away from Louis. While he isn’t paying attention, Louis sits down and puts his crossed ankles in the cool water. Harry doesn’t even notice him as he pops up to take in a breath and heads back the way he came, making large, billowing movements in the water on his way back toward him. 

He makes it all the way to the edge and splays a sopping wet hand on the siding, accidentally splashing Louis in the process. His head emerges from the water not a second later and he wipes the moisture from his eyes. They fall on Louis immediately, widening with a short gasp. 

“Louis,” he grins in greeting, droplets falling off of his cheeks and chin. He seems to relax some, kicking back and swimming casually in front of him. “You want to come in?” 

“Uhm, no - I don’t think so,” he says, glancing down at his lap. 

“Oh, that’s alright,” Harry assures him. 

Louis gestures awkwardly at him, “I’m sorry, I just - I don’t feel comfortable-” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry shakes his head, “I understand.”

“ _ You _ understand?” 

It comes out too harsh and too fast when it leaves his mouth but it’s too late to take it back. He takes a hard look at Harry’s firm abdomen and his thighs as he darts through the water, waiting to hear what he could possibly have to say. 

“Yeah, we’ve all got our insecurities,” Harry shrugs. 

“Please,” Louis scoffs. He knows he’s being rude but he can’t help it, not when Harry seems so perfect. “What do you have to be insecure about?” 

“Lots of things,” he argues lightly, wading back and forth in the water. When Louis only raises a brow, he continues. “When I was younger I was pretty overweight. It was like - a sore spot for me. Kids are mean, y’know?” Harry laughs tightly. “Anyway, I got on a super strict diet and started working out every day after school. Running track, everything I could do. Eventually I lost too much weight and I absolutely hated going to the gym. I felt awful, physically and mentally.” 

Louis can only blink for a few seconds, suddenly overcome with the need to apologize. He’d been so sure that Harry having a fit body meant he was immune to anything of the sort that Louis’d gone through as well, but he’d judged him much too soon. 

“And then?” He asks quietly. 

“Then I decided I wanted to take it back for myself. After I graduated I stopped caring as much what people thought of me. I came up with a diet that works for me to maintain the weight that I feel comfortable with and I started using the gym the right way. It all just sort of fell into place after that, really. They offered me a job as a trainer after a few years and - here I am,” he shrugs. “I figured it out for myself and I try to help other people do the same.” 

Harry swims back and forth in front of him a few more times, dipping his head in and out of the water and shaking his hair out afterward. He relaxes and shuts his eyes, letting his body float on top of the small waves. 

There’s no way Louis could picture a small Harry getting made fun of for his weight, and yet he feels fiercely protective about it. Harry’s always been a wonderful person since the moment they met, but he wonders how much of it stems from the same insecurities Louis has swirling around in his belly. 

His tongue feels heavy in his mouth at the thought of apologizing. He feels like it isn’t enough to offer a quick  _ sorry _ in return for what he’s just unpacked. Rolling his lips together, he checks that Harry’s eyes are still closed before he pushes off the side of the pool and plunges underneath the surface before he can think better of it. 

Popping up again and running a hand over his face, he smiles at Harry who glances toward him with wide eyes. His answering grin is worth so much more than a  _ sorry _ . 

“Change your mind, did you?” Harry laughs, flipping over to swim alongside him. 

Louis’ cheeks burn with the force of his smile, pushing off of the side with his feet and appreciating the feeling of swimming again for the first time in years even as his clothes weigh him down. “Something like that.” 

+

Laid out on the bench of the sauna, the ache at the bottom of his back is the last thing he’s thinking about when he’s got Harry hovering over him, kissing him messily, sweaty shoulders sliding together with the force of his lips. Louis doesn’t think he can sit up or lift his head if he tries, trapped and safe between Harry’s body and the condensated wood. 

The memories leading up to this moment are fuzzy and out of order in his head. He remembers the  _ other _ nights, each and every time Harry’s touched him burned into his brain since the first time, but tonight is different. 

Another late night had led to another workout, spiraling quickly into -  _ other _ things. Harry may or may not have been bench pressing again, sending Louis into a bit of a frenzy. He may have used the design of a stationary bike to his advantage. There’s a chance Harry had settled behind him and littered his neck in sharp, hot lovebites, hands skimming dangerously close to the band of his yoga pants. 

But one thing he remembers clearly - twisting in his grip until he could talk into Harry’s ear, a breathy, restless plea:  _ fuck me _ . 

The details are lost on Louis. He isn’t sure where the bout of confidence came from, if he can even call it that at all. It’s more just the fact that he’s getting progressively more desperate each time Harry touches him and he’s eager to see what it’s like to be with someone that actually  _ wants _ to be with him that way. 

It’s hot in the sauna, more so than he’s used to, but every touch still feels like it burns his skin. He glances up hazily at the light steam in the room as Harry moves down to his neck to lick over the bruises he’d left there earlier. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” Harry whispers. 

Blushing, Louis turns his head away from him with a small noise so he won’t deflect the compliment. But Harry catches it just like he always does, gripping Louis’ chin and forcing his eyes back to his own. 

“I mean it, Louis. So fucking pretty,” he murmurs. “Your body is - you’re just perfect. Your chest, your legs, your  _ hips _ ,” Harry practically whimpers, squeezing them between his hands. “Your little hands. You’re so perfect. So perfect for me.” 

Taking his shirt off had been a reckless decision. In all fairness Harry had asked him if it was alright before stripping it off of him, but Louis hadn’t really thought it through before he was nodding his agreement and it was already laying on the ground next to him. 

He’d felt incredibly insecure in that moment, his arms crossing over his chest and his stomach as a reflex, but Harry hadn’t allowed him to feel that way for long. He’d gotten on his knees to kiss across his fleshy abdomen, tracing nimble fingers over each of his stretch marks and reaching up to wipe at Louis’ cheeks when tears began to leak from his eyes unbidden. 

His reaction is the sole reason Louis’d felt comfortable moving further. He’d taken Harry’s hand when offered it and let himself be laid out for him to admire, keeping his eyes on Louis’ face as he slowly slid the rest of the clothes from his body. His yoga pants had fallen to the ground with a thump just loud enough to make him wince and remind him of his imminent nakedness. 

Harry kissed that away, too. And now he’s here, shameless with his legs splayed wide, one orgasm already down, Harry looming over him with two fingers buried deep in his arse. It’s the only time he’s felt so good that he can’t spare a worry for much else, too distracted by the way Harry talks filthy to him in his ear, the way he spreads his fingers just enough to pass over his prostate fleetingly every few seconds. With careful precision, Harry glances down between them as he eases a third digit inside of him beside the others. Louis mewls. 

There’s only so much he can take before he can’t wait any longer. He whines at Harry above him, using his ankle to press against the side of Harry’s bare arse. He seems to understand the message, pulling his fingers out and kissing Louis messily. 

He reaches to the side for the condom and lube he’d placed there earlier. (When Louis asked him why he had those in his office, he’d sheepishly admitted that he stocked up as soon as they started their after-hour lessons - it makes him feel much better knowing they’re for  _ him _ .) They hadn’t even needed the lube with the amount of moisture in the room, bodies slick from just sitting in the steam. It’s the most romantic place in the gym, Louis thinks fleetingly, with the low lights and the ambience. He wonders if Harry chose it on purpose. 

“C’mere, baby,” he hums once he’s got the condom rolled on, cock hard and curving upward against his abdomen.“Want you to be on top, yeah?” 

Louis feels a pang of nervousness shoot through his chest. He knows Harry means it so that he’ll be able to set his own pace but he can’t help the bitter memories that rise to the surface. 

His ex always preferred to be behind him when they had sex because apparently Louis made ‘weird faces’ when he came. Despite his bruised ego and his ex’s affliction for his orgasm face, one of his all time favorite positions had been for Louis to ride him. But that never worked out either, Louis’ thighs tiring out too soon and feeling insecure with his chest and tummy on display. He always eventually ended up face down in the sheets, biting his lip to hide how uncomfortable he was and waiting until afterward to get himself off in the bathroom. 

Harry though, looks at him like he couldn’t be angry with Louis if he tried. He looks at him like he can do anything and always has, since the minute he walked into the gym. Harry wants to see his  _ face _ . 

Swallowing down his nervousness, he lets Harry help him up onto his lap. Seated on top of his thighs, he doesn’t feel uncomfortable but he also doesn’t feel great, fighting the urge to try to cover himself before Harry sees something he might not like. 

“So gorgeous,” he says, pressing his lips to Louis’ collarbone. 

Brow furrowing determinedly, he takes a deep breath and lifts himself a bit so that Harry can position his cock accordingly. It feels monumental when he can feel his tip at his entrance, tensing as it breaches him for the first time. 

“Oh, Harry,” he breathes, forehead dropping to rest against his shoulder. 

He slides down in small increments but Harry doesn’t complain or hurry him. He shushes Louis instead, a hand on his hip and one cradling the back of his head, whispering to him and kissing his hair. 

Despite his tenderness, Louis can tell he’s struggling. His arms are bulging where he’s helping hold Louis up, his breathing terse and labored. More than anything, Louis appreciates the minute Harry allows for him to get used to the feeling. It’s not something he’d always had the pleasure of receiving before. 

Once he feels stable enough, Louis pulls back from him just enough to see his face, taking deep breaths through his nose. The position actually isn’t all that awkward for him when he thinks about it - his legs are folded neatly on either side of Harry’s thighs, his hands laced around his shoulders naturally. 

With dark eyes Harry leans forward, glancing up at him as he takes a nipple into his mouth. Louis gasps, his hips rolling, hissing as Harry nips at them. The stretch below his hips burns even after having been thoroughly opened up, but he focuses on Harry’s distraction instead and keeps rocking his hips lightly until it begins to fade. 

“Alright?” Harry asks, only pausing for a second where he’s moved to Louis’ other nipple. 

“Y - yeah. M’good.” 

He is, at first. For a few blissful minutes he moves just barely, still adjusting to the feeling after such a long dry spell. It’s nice to just experience it, until his subconscious begins to kick in. It reminds him of all the things he  _ should _ be doing. Ignoring the still barely-there prickles of pain shooting up his spine, he braces his knees on the wood and lifts himself up. 

“Louis,” Harry chastises, hands coming to grip his hips and stop his movement. “Don’t push yourself, yeah? We have all the time we need, baby.” He helps him lower back down to a sitting position, pulling Louis close to his chest and rubbing his back. “Just wanted you to be comfortable, you don’t have to do all the work, love.” 

He’d - Louis’d  _ known _ that but hearing it still makes the tears from earlier return to his waterline. He hadn’t realized how truly nervous he’d been to be with someone again. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, sniffling into Harry’s neck. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, “Of course.” 

True to his word, Harry keeps him cradled to his chest as he begins to subtly rotate his hips underneath him where they’re connected. With a hand secured on the back of Louis’ neck, he pushes in, in, in without ever really pulling out of him. It’s worlds better than Louis’d thought it would be though, and he has to bite his lip to keep from telling him as much. If anything it proves how nice it can be with the right person, giving Louis the same feelings with just barely moving his hips that used to take ages to achieve before, leaving him uncomfortably sore for days afterward when he wasn’t even sure it’d been worth it. 

After a few minutes the burn disappears altogether and he’s left with nothing but the inevitable fullness in his hips and lower belly. Harry is big, bigger than his ex was, and the differences are striking. For one, Harry actually knows how to  _ use _ it. His big hand falls away from Louis’ hip to grab at his arse, gripping hard with his fingernails. Louis pushes back into his hold automatically. 

It’s incredibly satisfying as Harry begins to punch upwards, jostling Louis on his lap and bouncing him slightly. Louis can tell he’s fighting to keep control, but he’s all too happy he’s so affected. He smiles wetly into the area underneath Harry’s ear as he inhales. 

He still can’t lift himself very far but he grinds his hips down as best he can, swallowing down Harry’s groan. He holds Harry’s cheeks in his hands as he looks up at Louis with stars in his eyes, pecking his chin on every downward rotation. Pulling lightly at his hair, Louis’ jaw falls slack as he pistons upward once, nailing his prostate again. He’s been extra sensitive since the first orgasm and the abrupt touch to the deepest parts of him sends him reeling. 

“Ah,” Louis hisses, “ _ Harry _ .” 

“C’mon, Louis,” he grunts, fucking up into him so fast he struggles to keep up, “give me one more. Know you can do it. C’mon, baby - come for me.” 

Harry reaches between them to thumb over Louis’ leaking prick, his grip unrelenting and harsh and  _ divine _ until Louis’ shaking, coming helplessly into his fist with a broken cry. Pulling away, Harry drags his head down and licks into his mouth, kissing him hard and fucking him harder. He shouts his own release over Louis’ shoulder as he breaks away from his lips abruptly, scratching his skin as he fills up the condom. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, a pleased huff of laughter echoing dully in Louis’ ears. 

Whimpering in response, he tries to muster the strength to get off of Harry so he won’t crush him. 

“No, no, baby. Stay here, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, holding him close as he stands from the bench, his spent cock slipping from Louis’ hole. In a show of strength Louis already knew he had, he holds Louis with one arm while he strips off the condom and throws it in the nearest bin with the other. 

Harry doesn’t put him down until they’re at the showers, where he washes them diligently and dresses him afterward in another pair of his clothes. From there he takes his hand and leads them through the kitchen, grabbing a few snacks and some water for them and then going to his office. 

There’s a couch pressed up against the wall for nights when Harry stays too late or doesn’t feel like driving home - he’d told him before - and it doesn’t look big enough for two but Harry seems determined. He lets Louis lay down first and awkwardly curls around his body with his much larger one on the outside. Half his body is hanging off but he doesn’t offer a single complaint. 

He lifts the water bottle to Louis’ lips to have a drink before he has one himself, ripping open the granola bar he’d grabbed from the pantry. Louis swallows down the cool water gratefully, leaning into the touch when Harry runs his fingers through his hair to get it off of his forehead. 

“Don’t wanna leave yet,” he whispers. 

It’s too vulnerable but Louis feels like he’s allowed to say it, safe and secure and in the privacy of Harry’s office. He worries for a few quiet moments but Harry just grins, feeding him another bite of the granola bar. 

“I didn’t want you to.” 

+

On Saturday, completely -  _ mostly _ \- unrelated to the fact he’s just been fucked so good he feels like a new person, Louis gets inspired to make some positive change. He wakes up before his alarm but doesn’t feel like sleeping any longer, rolling out of bed and making himself a coffee with breakfast. When he opens his wardrobe to dress for the day, he notices his few options. 

The new yoga pants are folded on one side, fresh out of the wash, and his old jeans on the other, a high stack of sweatpants in the middle of the two. He could slip into the joggers simply because they’re comfortable, but he feels …  _ different _ about it today. Grabbing his old jeans, Louis tosses them in the direction of the bin and pulls on the sweatpants. Before he leaves, he tugs several of his old shirts off the hanger that don’t fit anymore either and throws them away, too. He’s determined to find some clothes that  _ fit _ him. 

Louis’ always hated shopping in the past. The feeling of being alone in a dressing room with the horrible fluorescent lighting and the unflattering angle of the mirror made him queasy with nerves. But just because he’s refused to shop for himself doesn’t mean that his body changes any less, and now that he’s somewhat okay with it he feels like he should mark the occasion. 

There’s almost no one there when he pulls into the nearest department store, but he figures that’s probably for the best. Every time he tried to shop at the mall it would never end well. Not only were the employees rude to him, but most of the time their stores only sold the smallest sizes anyway. He’s hoping to have much better luck here. 

He manages to pick out an armful of clothes to try on within the first half hour. No matter how nervous he is about actually trying them on, he makes himself march toward the back of the store and pick a stall, hanging up the clothes on the hook and staring them down determinedly. 

Most of them fit but there’s only a few he truly likes. He stops when he reaches one of his final choices, a midnight blue v-neck and some dark-wash jeans. They aren’t high waisted like he wore months ago, but they looked comfortable and paired well with the shirt. Sliding the jeans up his legs first, Louis nearly cries when they fit him without having to stretch the button across. Before he lets himself look, he pulls on the shirt too. 

It’s definitely a different look than he used to wear. This time the shirt is loose on his midriff and the jeans don’t carve indentions into his skin or cause his stomach to ache from the tightness. He can still see the subtle curve on the side of his hips that he hadn’t even been able to see when he wore skin-tight clubbing clothes, but this is much more flattering, and Louis  _ really _ likes it. 

Even the jeans fit him better. They’re a bit long at the ankles and he’d have to roll them up just a bit to wear them properly but they’re so comfortable, stretchy around his hips but snug in the legs and just the way he likes them. 

Tilting his head to the side, he begins to think of what  _ other _ people would think. He’s probably going to buy them anyway, but now he’s curious. An extra opinion couldn’t hurt, he figures. He angles to the side and snaps a quick picture with his phone of the full outfit before he can talk himself out of it, opening up a new message to Harry. 

_ Thoughts??  _

Taking a seat on the small chair in the corner, Louis crosses his bouncing legs and bites his lip. Harry’s probably busy anyway, doesn’t have time to stop just to give Louis  _ fashion _ advice. What had he been thinking? 

His phone that had locked after a few minutes pings and vibrates in his hand. He slides his finger across Harry’s notification, using his thumb to unlock it. 

_ Holy shit _ , it reads,  _ you look amazing _

Then, a few seconds later,  _ Yes - definitely get them!  _

Unable to help the breathless giggle, Louis grins hard and types back a smiley face. He heads to the counter with an armful of the jeans in several different colors and the other shirts that’d caught his eye before. 

It’s definitely been a process, but he’s come such a long way already. When he gets home he changes into the same outfit and looks at it again in front of the floor length mirror in his room. And, for the first time in months when he’s looking at his own reflection, he smiles. 

+

Out of a late workout and freshly showered, Louis feels like a new man. They’ve been getting progressively more difficult, adding more reps to his list and doing exercises for more time every few days. It’s a lot, but Louis can’t even pretend that he doesn’t notice the progress. When he weighs himself it’s the same as before but he can’t deny the muscle forming on his thighs and his arms. It isn’t much, but he’s incredibly proud of it. 

Which may have to do with the fact that Harry’s proud of it too, constantly encouraging him and pointing out his progress, although Louis swears the progress itself isn’t due to the earth shattering orgasms he receives most nights. Along with the support has come praise -  _ lots _ of praise. Harry compliments him on nearly everything he does and Louis’ ego swells a bit more every single time. 

And the thing is, it all seems genuine. Harry doesn’t underline his nice words with a pinch to his bum or an invitation for sex, although Louis wouldn’t have turned him down. But it isn’t a ploy to keep him sleeping with him, is what Louis’ getting at. The two are undeniably separate. Harry really is a wonderful trainer and he’s only beginning to see just how much he has an impact on his life. 

When he has to throw out another shirt or pants he remembers his words and feels a bit better. When he thinks about staying home instead of going out he thinks of his encouragement to not let this affect his life so much. When he goes to eat lunch or dinner, he doesn’t feel as inherently guilty anymore because of his lectures on how all different types of food are necessary for the body, just in different ways. 

It’s serious  _ progress _ and it’s the first time Louis’ really been able to  _ see _ it. 

Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean his insecurities, especially with food, have vanished. He does alright with making his meals at home because he forces himself to buy only healthy ingredients. It begins to get harder when he passes the McDonalds on the corner when he turns out of the gym or the Starbucks next door to his flat. 

Those are difficult for him to ignore but he forces himself. He nearly chokes on his water when Harry rounds the corner into the kitchen with two full bags of fast food. 

“Sorry I’m late - again,” he smiles sheepishly. “Had the day off but I brought dinner to make up for it since you said you’d already done your routine.” 

Louis just stares at him, his water still held in his cheeks, unsure of what to feel. 

“Is everything alright?” Harry asks, setting everything down on the table. 

He swallows, “Is that - are those burgers?” 

Harry nods, “And fries. And a milkshake, if you want one. I wasn’t sure which flavor you liked so I got several,” he chuckles. 

“I can’t eat those,” Louis says. 

“Why not?” Harry frowns, “Are you allergic to something?” 

Glancing at him like he’s insane, Louis tries to spell it out for him in simplest terms. He’d have thought Harry, of all people, would know better. “That’s fast food, Harry.” 

“I don’t think I’m following,” he mutters. “Why can’t you have fast food?” 

“It’s fattening. I’ve been trying so hard to lose all this weight and -” 

“And what?” Harry asks, “One burger isn’t going to kill your progress, Louis. You look amazing, you looked great when you first came here. Plus, you’ll have already worked it off again by tomorrow. Trust me, you don’t want to get too far in your head about this.” 

Chewing on his lip, Louis considers it but shakes his head. He wants it.  _ Bad _ . But if he eats this one he’ll just go and get another one tomorrow, and again the next day until he’s back to where he didn’t want to be again. He can’t. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” he says. 

Harry’s mouth opens but it shuts abruptly afterward, as if he’s deciding not to push it. He approaches Louis and runs a hand through his damp hair, gripping his hip with the other. 

“Forget the food for now then,” Harry shrugs. “Did you have a shower?” 

Brows turning inward, Louis wonders why he’s asking when he can feel the wetness. “Yeah, I just got out a few minutes ago.” 

“Wanna touch you, yeah? Can I?” Harry glances at him coyly. 

“Uhm, yeah - yes.” 

Louis fumbles backward when Harry pushes at his chest, lifting him by the thighs to set him on top of the table. He grips Louis’ waist hard and noses around his neck, his teeth nicking him every few moments. 

“Gonna get my hands on you - kiss you a little. I’ll make you feel so good, baby,” he purrs. “Gonna properly  _ devour _ you.” 

“Wha - devour like -  _ eat _ me?” Louis squeaks as Harry bends down his body slowly. 

“Well, we are in the kitchen, aren’t we?” Harry smirks devilishly, winking at him. “Lift up for me, baby.” 

He pulls Louis’ trousers and boxers down his legs and lowers himself to his knees, jerking Louis’ hips forward in one smooth movement until they’re even with his mouth. He’s got the audacity to actually lick his lips, using one of his hands to run two fingertips over Louis’ hole. The food from before is effectively forgotten. 

Louis doesn’t think he can muster the courage to tell him he’s never done this before. That his ex was so adamant about  _ not _ doing it, even when Louis got on his knees for him anytime he asked. In fact, he’d probably be pushing Harry away right now if he hadn’t just thoroughly showered for fear of total rejection. 

So instead he forces himself to relax his tense spine while he’s up on the table, shutting his eyes to take a calming breath in and out. He counts to ten and flexes his fingers on the edge of the table, wondering what it’s going to feel like - 

“Oh,  _ shit _ ,” he keens highly, eyes rolling back into his head. 

And it isn’t necessarily that it feels  _ fantastic _ but the fact that it’s so completely  _ new _ sends him reeling. The thought that someone even wants to do that to him has him a bit dizzy with want. Overcome with the sudden emotion, he threads his hands in Harry’s hair and feels his answering grin resonate, pressed into his warm, freshly-washed skin. 

Harry’s tongue is as skilled as the rest of him, Louis’ thighs thrown over his shoulders, smooth and rough all at once as he makes quick, tight circles around him. He actually begins to physically shiver, though, the minute his finger makes contact again. 

It’d been good in the beginning with his tongue, even better with a long, slim finger inside of him, but when he brushes against Louis’ prostate he  _ screams _ . One of his legs kicks out over Harry’s shoulder and he just barely hears the delighted laughter from Harry’s otherwise occupied lips. 

“Taste so good, baby,” he coos, pausing for a second to talk to him before diving back in. 

A second finger prods at him before it slides easily in next to the first. Harry uses them to spread him open as much as he can, fucking his tongue into him even deeper than it had been before. 

“H - Harry,” he slurs, his hand twisting in his hair. 

His shirt bunches up around his midsection but Louis doesn’t even bother fixing it. He leans back until his elbow is flat on the table, his back arching and relaxing with the sensation. Either subconsciously or completely on purpose, his hips rotate onto Harry’s face to get more of the feeling, grinding as best he can with Harry holding him partially down with his other hand. 

Then that one leaves him too, and his hips really begin to buck, his entire prick suddenly engulfed by Harry’s palm. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the feeling when Harry touches him. 

“You’re so fucking sensitive,” Harry mutters to himself, sounding nearly in awe of the way Louis gasps and mewls for him. 

Yeah - Louis  _ knows _ . Can feel it in the way it begins in his curling toes inside of his tennis shoes and works its way up through his legs, an incessant tingling down to his bones that pushes him closer and closer to the edge. He knows it in the way he shakes when he lifts a hand to pet over Harry’s curls as a form of quiet appreciation, of wanting to do things with him he’d thought before that no one ever would. He’s sensitive all the way up to the tears in the corners of his eyes, so grateful he can’t stand it and that much closer to his orgasm. 

“Harry,” he says warningly, though it comes out as more of a high whine. 

“Yeah, baby,” he smirks again in response, skilled mouth working him over where his fingers drift deeper. 

He takes them out altogether after a few more seconds and Louis doesn’t have time to complain as he slides his big palms up until Louis’ shirt is bunched awkwardly around his nipples, Harry’s fingers pinching them teasingly. But he doesn’t spend much time there, either, his hands slowing as they rest over Louis’ bare abdomen. 

It draws Louis back to the moment, his head no longer thrown backwards as he glances down, insecure though he knows he shouldn’t be. He knows there’s a point here that he’s trying to prove but - if Louis caves, if he eats the burger and drinks the milkshake, he’s worried all of his hard work will disappear. He’s still not even really at his goal yet, and it would only put a wrench in his plans. Worst of all, he’s nervous Harry will stop wanting him. 

Which seems impossible right now, with his eager hands and talented mouth all over him, working him to the edge, but Louis knows how the story goes. He can remember in the beginning stages of his last relationship when his ex had actually been interested in making  _ him _ come as well. When he thought Louis was young and hot and sexy. Before everything else. He’s familiar with the way it falls and crumbles right when he thinks he’s finally got a hold on it. 

_ But _ , by the same token, this is  _ Harry _ . He can’t keep comparing the two of them. This is Harry who’s been unbelievably sweet and supportive, wonderful in every single way that counts. Harry who’s on his knees for him solely for  _ his _ pleasure, not even touching himself when Louis glances to check. 

“So gorgeous,” he murmurs, leaning in and sucking hard against his rim just as his fingers dig into Louis’ hips  _ hard _ . 

Unable to help the way he bucks upward, Louis keens as his eyes roll backward and flutter shut. His orgasm rocks through him unexpectedly while Harry’s fingertips smooth over old stretch marks and the outward curve of his hips, Louis’ cock spurting completely untouched above his face. 

His recovery takes an embarrassing amount of time, longer than any other time they’ve been together. But Harry doesn’t complain as he shivers and clings, only lifts him from the table and lets Louis lean on him while he rights his clothing and helps him down into one of the chairs afterward. 

Reduced down to a puddle of post-orgasm mush, Louis doesn’t try to fight himself when his stomach growls loudly. He reaches directly for the still-wrapped burger and brings it up to his mouth, smiling at Harry and groaning happily as the first hints of familiar grilled meat spread over his taste buds. 

+

Louis makes it a full four months without seeing his ex before he runs into him in Tesco. He’s minding his own business looking for food for the next week when he accidentally almost hits him in the leg with the cart, mouth opening to apologize but promptly closing when he sees who it is. 

Every part of him screams to run away or hide from him but he can’t. There’s nowhere for him to escape to in the middle of the aisle, so he holds his ground. For a few seconds nothing is said. Louis feigns confidence, a hand on his hip and standing straight in a way he hopes seems intimidating or, at the very least, like he’s grown a backbone. 

Then in slow motion, everything seems to slide downhill. His ex smirks in that way that Louis always hated, eyeing him over once from head to toe. Louis feels powerful almost, proud of how good he looks and how much he must be wishing that he’d never left, how much better Louis’ probably doing than he is - 

“Wow,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head. “Glad I got out of there when I did.” 

And - and that’s all he says. He turns and walks off down the aisle in the opposite direction and Louis stands there with a half open mouth and a rapidly declining ego, his hands gripping the basket so tightly that his knuckles burn. 

It’s just - he’s never going to be good enough, is he? 

Louis couldn’t care less about an opinion coming from  _ him _ , but it certainly doesn’t feel  _ good _ . Is that what everyone else thinks of him too? Is that what  _ Harry _ thinks? He knows better than to let someone else determine his worth, but after feeling so good about himself these past few weeks, it hurts more than it should. 

He leaves the groceries in the cart and heads for the exit without purchasing any of them. Half of him is numb and the other half stings like an open wound, one he’d thought he stitched closed a while back. 

As it turns out, laying immobile on his couch for five hours straight doesn’t serve much purpose but to make him feel even worse for himself. By the time eight o’clock rolls around he’s past his sadness phase, cruising slowly but surely into hot anger. Defensive and insecure all over again, he slumps to his room. 

He doesn’t even feel like going to the gym anymore but he also doesn’t feel like cancelling on Harry and having to pretend like nothing’s wrong. He picks up the yoga pants from his wardrobe but pauses before he steps into them. Jaw clenching, he sets them back down and grabs for the sweatpants instead. 

_ Smile _ , he tells himself as he walks up to the entrance. He taps his cheeks a few times to perk himself up but he doesn’t think it does much but make the skin more sensitive to the strikingly cool night air. The door’s unlocked for him even though it’s only a few minutes until closing, the hallway light left on. Once he gets to the back hall he glances around but doesn’t see another light to indicate where Harry is, and he hadn’t texted him beforehand. 

“Harry?” He calls. 

“In here,” comes his response, a towel shoved in the door to the pool to keep it open. Louis follows it, Harry’s head coming up from underneath the water. “Let me just dry off and we can get to your routine.” 

“Uhm, I don’t really feel like it tonight,” Louis mutters. 

Harry raises himself out and sits down on the edge with a concerned glance, patting the spot next to him for Louis to sit. Sliding off his shoes and setting his jacket next to the door, Louis rolls up the sweatpants and throws his legs over the side to mirror Harry’s. It’s dark in the room but the skylights offer just enough shine to make out Harry’s body next to his. 

“S’everything alright?” 

“Yeah,” Louis nods. “Just haven’t had the best day.” 

“Want to talk about it?” Harry asks lightly. 

He gives a dry laugh, “Not really, but - uhm, it’s just my ex. I saw him today. At Tesco. Said he’s glad he got out when he did,” he shrugs to downplay how bitter he sounds. 

For a few minutes Harry goes back to that thing he does where he thinks silently, his forehead creased and lips pursed before he says something surprisingly uplifting. But this time it almost seems  _ angry _ , an unfamiliar glint in his eye when Louis glances over at him. 

“Did he usually talk to you like that?” Harry leans forward curiously. “S’that why you think you aren’t beautiful?” 

It’s a cheesy line and Louis would absolutely laugh at it if it hadn’t sounded so genuine, if he weren’t able to see the disappointed frown etched into Harry’s face at the thought. He swallows and shrugs again, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“Sometimes, yeah. There were a lot of reasons he said when we broke up. I can’t remember all of them. Too loud, too confident. Too fat.” 

It seems to all come together in Harry’s eyes, bitter understanding settling over his features. “Louis, I - that’s so shitty of him. But you have to know - you aren’t any of those things, alright? You’re lovely and kind and so gorgeous, not that it matters how you look.” 

Louis wants to believe him. He wants to believe him so badly that for a few wonderful seconds he lets himself fall into the fantasy that Harry’s telling him the truth, that he  _ is _ lovely and kind and gorgeous. But then he remembers what Harry is to him. 

He’s not a boyfriend, not anyone he sees outside of the gym. He and Harry fuck and then they go their seperate ways because maybe - maybe Louis’ only good for one or the other. Maybe he can either be in a relationship and an awful sex life or he can have the best sex of his life with someone he’ll never get to truly  _ have _ . 

“How would you know?” Louis asks bitterly. “You get all that from fucking me?” 

Wincing at his words, Harry bristles, his own tone becoming harsh. “I know that because it’s obvious, Louis. Have you forgotten that we’re around each other  _ without _ fucking the majority of the time? You’re here nearly every day. How could I not notice all of those things about you?” 

Abruptly knocked off of his high horse, Louis inhales sharply and stares down at the small waves below him.  _ Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry _ , he pleads with himself. It’s too quiet in a way it’s never been for them before. For the first time with him Louis feels awkward, like he’s said too much and messed everything up. He knows Harry’s just trying to be nice but - years of insults make it hard to take a compliment sometimes. 

“You’ve been through shit, Louis, but that doesn’t define you. And fucking you has absolutely nothing to do with my wanting you to be happy and healthy. Your ex may have been a dick, but I’m not. So don’t - don’t treat me like one.” 

Harry seems to lose his confidence toward the end of his speech but Louis can tell he still means every word. And now he feels doubly awful, insecure and uptight from earlier and nervous he’s going to mess everything up with Harry too. Louis’ great at getting himself into these situations but he’s never been all that skilled at getting out of them. 

“You’re not a dick, Harry. I know that. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” he feels pathetic when his throat closes in, his lips twisting to keep himself from crying. He’s just offended him and he doesn’t deserve to cry and have it all be okay, but he can’t even help it. 

Beside him, Harry sighs. “It’s alright, Louis.” 

“S’not. I know you’re not a dick - you’re wonderful,” Louis laughs wetly. “You’re the whole reason I’m doing so well and I don’t know what I would do with - without you.” 

With an arm thrown around Louis’ shoulders, Harry is quiet for a few minutes. His fingers rub gentle circles into his shoulder, the only sign that he isn’t going to kick him out for good. Louis allows himself the momentary comfort. 

“You’re doing wonderful on your  _ own _ . You could’ve achieved just as much by yourself. Don’t invalidate your progress.” 

“Still,” Louis shakes his head. “I can’t thank you enough. You - you make me feel confident again.” 

“I’m glad I make you feel confident,” a hint of a smile graces Harry’s lips. “You should always feel that way,” he whispers. 

They don’t kiss properly but Harry does press his lips against the top of his head, squeezing him a bit tighter. Louis glances down at the smooth sway of their legs in the pool and lets his eyes fall shut to combat the headache he can feel blooming in his temples. 

Just like always, he’s glad he came. It always seems to end that way with Harry, where he leaves better than he showed up in whether it’s emotional or physical shape. And the routines have been good for him and all of the other changes he’s made, but ultimately it’s Harry that’s spurred on all of his new improvements. 

Feeling grateful, he leans further into Harry and rests his forehead in the nape of his neck. His lip quivers again but for different reasons. 

He’s always felt like he took up too much space. Despite being small he always manages to find a way to make something uncomfortable - cuddling, sex, anything. He’s not smooth or charismatic and there’s nothing to even that out usually, no matter how much he may wish there was. 

But here, nestled against Harry’s broader side with an arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders, he cries freely and accepts the much needed comfort. Tonight, he finally feels  _ small _ \- and it’s got absolutely nothing to do with the size of his body. 

+

Couples yoga. It begins as a fairly innocent idea. Louis’ too caught up in his embarrassment that he suggested it even though they  _ aren’t _ an actual couple to notice the suggestive smirk painted across Harry’s face as he immediately agrees. He’s still blushing even as Harry rolls out mats for them, hiding his smile in his shoulder while Louis panics. 

In the end, he doesn’t even think Harry had cared much that he suggested the nonexistent status of their relationship. It’s evident now, in the way he’s taking  _ full _ advantage of their positions. Not that Louis minds all that much. 

They do the nice ones in the beginning. The innocent ones. Louis’d been so excited the night before that he made an actual  _ list _ for them - he actually does want to  _ do _ them before they do anything else. So he makes Harry sit in front of him on the mat, crossing his legs and smirking when Harry tracks the way his yoga pants stretch with the movement. 

“Hey, focus!” Louis snaps his fingers. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he snickers, eyes still below Louis’ waist for another few moments before he obeys. 

All of it makes him feel powerful, in a way. Yoga has become  _ Louis’ _ thing - Harry’s never been so good at it. For once he feels comfortable enough to play a bit with him, to  _ tease _ . And that’s exactly what he plans to do. 

“Okay, hands like this,” he says, placing his palms face down on his own knees. 

“This is couple’s yoga,” Harry deadpans. “Aren’t we supposed to like, touch?” 

Louis doesn’t dignify that with a response. He cracks one eye open to glare at Harry and hopes that he gets the message, feeling accomplished when Harry sighs and copies him. Steady breaths in and out keep him occupied enough, almost even forgetting Harry’s even there until he sighs again. 

Grinning when he opens his eyes and Harry’s are still shut, he leans forward and puts his hands on Harry’s shoulders. He jolts with a start, gaze flicking to Louis’ face close to his own with a raise of his brows. 

“Hands on my shoulders,” Louis instructs. 

“This is a yoga position?” 

Huffing, Louis rolls his eyes. “Yes, now just do  _ it _ . We’re supposed to sync our breathing.” 

Admittedly, though, his heart begins to race when he finally listens, palms covering his smaller shoulders entirely. They’re warm and it radiates underneath Louis’ skin, his face beginning to color a shade darker. He clears his throat and holds Harry’s eyes and tries to focus on his breathing. 

Harry tries to fight the smile rising to his lips but he fails. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he leans forward slightly, unable to help himself, “I think we’re supposed to grab each other’s biceps and pull each other back and forth -” 

“Do you  _ want _ to do the rest of the poses?” Louis grits. 

Rolling his lips together, Harry grins and mimes keeping his lips shut. He manages to keep him quiet for a full minute while he counts inside of his head, and their breathing finally syncs just as the eye contact gets to be too much. 

“Okay.” Louis announces, “Moving on.” 

“What’s next?” 

“The chair pose,” he says. “We’ll have to be back to back.” He spins around with his back to Harry and waits until he can feel him do the same, nodding at him in the mirror to the side. “Ready?” 

“Ready,” Harry affirms, dropping down into a squat with their backs pressed together. 

And, Louis enjoys this, really, but he hadn’t much thought it through. This is  _ Harry’s _ specialty again now; Louis’ never been able to hold a squat for very long. He ignores the spikes of pain and balances his weight with Harry’s. 

“Getting tired?” Harry jests. 

His chuckle ricochets through his body to Louis’, and only as he’s shaking with it does he realize how much he’d been leaning on him. 

“Shut up,” he groans. 

Just as he’s about to call it, Harry’s weight disappears completely and Louis feels himself falling backward. Before he can hit the floor Harry’s catching him in his arms. 

“Let me try a few now, yeah?” Harry asks, impatient. There isn’t even time to give an answer before he’s being abruptly bent in half, face to face with his own calves. “Now that we’re in  _ sync _ ,” he breathes, “let’s put all of that yoga to good use.” 

Harry blankets his entire body, keeping him bent over as he kisses sparingly down his spine. When he raises upward Louis tries to go too but Harry only presses a hand to the center of his back to keep him down. Wrapping his hands around his ankles, Louis gulps. The undeniable shape of Harry’s cock rests directly over his arse through the yoga pants, a fact he’s sure Harry is observing. At least he’d succeeded in teasing him, Louis figures. 

“Love these so much,” Harry murmurs, lifting the band of his yoga pants away from his skin only to let it snap back against him harshly. He squeezes at his hips and arse, then promptly tugs them down to expose his bare skin. Louis can hear his sharp intake of breath. “Nothing underneath, hm? Were you planning this?” 

Mouth opening around a gasp, Louis springs forward when Harry lands a slap over his arse. He fights to keep the position, still bent over and on display, only this time there is no fear. Just confidence, happiness that he’s got such an effect on Harry. 

“You knew the second you put these on that I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you.” Harry leans over him again to bite at the shell of his ear. “Bet you thought of me when you slid them over these hips. Just can’t get enough,” he breathes. 

Louis isn’t sure which one of them he’s talking about, but he couldn’t agree more. He needs Harry to touch him nearly as much as it feels like Harry  _ wants _ to. He whimpers, pushing backward onto him. 

“Getting impatient, are we?” Harry spanks him again. “ _ Me too _ .” 

He pulls Louis up until they’re standing properly with Louis’ back to his chest, grabbing a convenient condom and packet of lube from his pockets before discarding the trousers altogether. It seems like Louis hadn’t been the only one planning it. It makes him smile, tucking it secretively into his own shoulder while Harry begins to open him up. 

They don’t always have the time or convenience to do it this way - most of the time they have to settle for their mouths or hands. But occasionally they just fall together, perfectly in tune and with the same yet totally different intentions. When Louis grips his arm to steady himself, their heartbeats are still in sync. 

Taking time to appreciate the circumstance, he leans into Harry as he scissors his fingers, reaching a hand up behind him to grab at his hair while Harry bends down to kiss his neck. After a few more minutes, there isn’t much of a warning. Harry leaves him empty before he fills him up all over again with his cock, spreading him open and sliding into him in the same breath. 

It’s always one giant exhale when he’s finally seated, Louis’ breath punched from his gut as he adjusts. And Harry’s patient even as he huffs like a bull in his ear, gripping Louis’ hip so hard his knuckles turn a lighter shade and he leaves fingerprints behind for Louis to admire later on. 

As if to test it out, Harry rucks up into him shallowly. It’s good, it’s  _ more _ than good, but it’s nowhere near as hard as they both need it. Louis lets him grind into him for a bit longer before he arches his back and looks up at him. 

“H - I need,” Louis babbles, clinging to him as best he can to keep the angle. 

“Hang on, baby,” he grunts. 

Harry hooks his arms underneath Louis’ knees and lifts him until he’s holding all of his weight, bouncing him on and off of his cock as he pleases. His stomach drops when the floor seems to disappear from underneath him, but soon enough he’s back to nonsense. His brain is fuzzy around the edges as he holds onto his own legs over Harry’s grip, unable to do much but take it as he lifts him on and off like nothing more than one of his barbells. 

“Gonna fold you in half, yeah? Fuck you so good your legs go numb.” 

“Oh,” Louis keens, leaning into him with all of his weight. 

“You like that, baby?” Harry asks, adjusting until he’s got a better grip. “Like knowing that I could go for  _ hours _ , could fuck you until you can’t walk anymore, ‘till you can’t think of anything except for how fucking  _ amazing _ I feel inside of you.” 

Harry’s stamina is outstanding. Louis knows he shouldn’t be surprised but he always is, coming at least twice every time they’re together before Harry even comes once himself. Honestly though, he can’t say he’s complaining. 

But just once he’s determined to do it at the same time, to stay lucid long enough to have Harry come  _ first _ . Though he can feel the artificial slide of the condom between them, he wants to see Harry’s face in the mirror, wants to picture that he can feel him flooding his insides when they’re finished. Another thing he never even considered with his ex. 

He walks over to the closest one of their mats with Louis still in his arms, getting onto his knees setting him down gently on the foam. The soft gesture only lasts a few seconds as he kisses Louis’ forehead, and then he’s gripping him hard by the shoulder and adjusting him until he’s where he wants. He settles him when Louis’ on his hands and knees, the floor-to-ceiling mirror directly in front of them. 

“Oh,” he gasps. 

“Yeah, that’s right, baby,” Harry smirks. “Want you to see how fucking sexy you look when I fuck you.” 

And, well - he isn’t wrong. Louis  _ does _ think he looks sexy when he glances up, catching sight of his own facial expression just as Harry slams back into him. Mouth dropped open and eyes glazed over, Louis feels  _ good _ . Confident. 

He ignores the taboo feeling of it all and lets his eyes roam over their reflection. From this angle he can only really see his face and a bit of his flushed chest as Harry pounds into him from behind, the sound of it echoing in his ears. Half-lidded and sex-hazy, he looks like something his ex might’ve watched in a sleazy video he found online. 

Oddly enough that thought brings a smile to his face, pushing back as much as he can against Harry’s thighs in consideration. Harry’s fingers flex ominously on his shoulder and continue to pull him back onto his cock, but his eyes run up the length of Louis’ back before meeting Louis’ in the mirror. Louis never thought he’d get to experience sex this  _ good _ \- and he certainly wouldn’t have if he’d still been with his ex. 

Harry lifts a hand to wrap around his throat, hauling him up until Louis’ back is against his chest. The new angle sends him moaning all over again, Harry’s fingers tightening up just on the right side of too much. This -  _ this _ is what he’d been missing before. There’s just no way to replicate it. Part of him is worried he’ll be ruined for anyone else after this but he feels far too good to care. 

“Look, Louis,” Harry hisses, using his hand to hold Louis’ face where he wants it, squeezing his cheeks and lips until they purse, parting. “Look at us. You see how amazing you look? How fucking hot you are?  _ Fuck _ . So good for me, baby.” 

His other hand comes to rest on the dip of his waist, fingers digging into his flesh until it turns white from the harsh grip while the arm holding his face settles comfortably across his smaller shoulders. With his back arched, Louis can feel him even deeper. Fleetingly in between his harsh thrusts, he places a hand on the outside of his abdomen and pictures that he can feel the imprint from the outside. 

It’s undeniably the closest they’ve been so far, pressed together so tightly that it doesn’t take much for Harry to rotate his hips the right way before Louis’ properly screaming, falling flat onto his hands again. 

Except he doesn’t land on his hands when Harry lets him go. He lands with a cheek pressed against the yoga mat, Harry fucking into him so roughly that he can’t even keep his balance enough to hold himself up. 

He’s still set on seeing Harry come, though, and he can tell he’s close. He’s jerky and off pace, yanking Louis backwards over and over again. Usually he takes care of Louis first but tonight he seems like he’s just  _ taking _ and - it’s doing wonders for Louis’ prick, leaking steadily onto the mat below him. With all of his strength he lifts his chin to see it happen, glancing up toward the mirror just as Harry finds his prostate for the second time. 

It doesn’t take much for either of them. Harry pounds in for what seems like a hundred more times but it’s obvious when he’s coming, blindly rutting forward as if to get even deeper inside of Louis, as if he’s picturing the same thing Louis is. It’s the same thought that sends him over the edge as well, imagining his insides coated with Harry’s come, so much that it leaks when he pulls out. 

Practically boneless now, Louis only falls even flatter on the mat as Harry comes down on top of him, vibrating as the last of his cum empties into him. Louis’ own prick twitches the last of his release, pressed against the foam. 

“I think this is my favorite position,” Harry says, sounding completely serious like Louis knows he probably  _ is _ . 

And it does feel nice but he’s  _ heavy _ , and they’re beginning to stick together from the sweat and excess cum. He groans and shoulders at him to get up, already pouting. 

“Shower?” He murmurs, glancing at Harry with tired eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Harry hums, “Quite like seeing you all messy.” At that, Louis fully glares at him, twisting until Harry’s cock begins to come out of him. “Hey, hey,” Harry hisses, carefully pulling out and taking care of the condom. He pulls on his trousers loosely before heading back over to him. 

Louis raises his arms after he’s rolled onto his back, asking to be picked up. He grins when he’s in Harry’s arms again, kissing his shoulder in thanks as he covers Louis with a towel and walks him toward the showers. 

On the way out of the room Louis cringes looking at the mat on the ground. “We’re going to have to clean that,” he whispers. 

“M’gonna keep it,” Harry insists. 

Giggling, Louis blushes. “You’re disgusting.” 

The routine is one he’s grown fond of the last few times, showering with him and dressing together. Louis tries not to dig too deep into why he enjoys all of the domestic things specifically. It’s probably nothing. Harry’s just endearing, is all. 

Like right now, as he runs a hand over Louis’ cheek and slips their hands together to walk him out to his car, carrying both of their bags on his shoulder. 

“Couple’s yoga,” Harry mutters again, “Not a bad idea.” 

And, it’s probably just that he’s sleep deprived and fucked out of his wits, but Louis could swear he puts emphasis on the word  _ couple _ . 

+

Niall, luckily immune to Louis’ antisocial tendencies, doesn’t leave him alone until he agrees to meet him for lunch the next weekend. Louis’ much happier to accept his invitation this time now that he’s got new clothes - and a new outlook. 

They agree to meet at a cafe in between both of them on Niall’s lunch break. He texts Harry good morning when he wakes up late and dresses for the weather, unable to help the excitement in his step at the thought of seeing his friend again. 

He hadn’t realized it before but he thinks he’d been subconsciously avoiding Niall. Louis’d just felt so awful about himself when he was with his ex and directly afterward that he hadn’t noticed the steadily growing distance. Now that he has, he’s determined to fix it. Niall’s always been his best and closest friend and there’s no way he’s going to risk messing that up, especially not now that he feels so much better. 

In fact, Louis nearly cries when he walks in and sees him sitting in their old booth, memories from years ago coming back to him. They used to come here in the dead of night, stumbling and barefoot, talking about the future and everything else they thought they knew. When Louis began dating his ex, their friendship had quickly dwindled, though Niall was stubborn enough to keep hold.  _ Thank God _ , Louis thinks. He’s missed him so much. 

Niall doesn’t stand to greet him but he smiles, and Louis rushes forward, leans down and tackles him in a hug without even giving him the chance to speak. His arms come up around Louis’ shoulders to give him an awkward pat. 

“Everything okay, bud?” 

At the familiar nickname, Louis feels hot tears leak into Niall’s shirt. He sits down on the same side of the booth as him despite the other side being completely open, settling into the space Niall makes for him. His initial apology isn’t all that clear through his sniffles, but after a few sips of the warm drink Niall ordered him and some deep breaths, he’s able to explain why he’s been so distant. 

And he starts from the  _ beginning _ , too, so he’ll understand. Everything from when he’d first gotten into a relationship, every night when he’d wished he could tell Niall about the problems he was having but how his ex didn’t like them talking. By the time he’s vented about everything he can think of, Niall’s got tears in his eyes too. 

So they’re overemotional and clingy in the best possible way, sniffling all over each other when the waitress comes to ask if they’re okay. They laugh the rest of the evening and Louis begins to feel like he can  _ breathe _ again. It’s just another weight off of his chest. 

It’s dark when it’s finally time to head home, though neither of them really want to leave. Louis walks around underneath the strong lights with his arm linked through Niall’s, reminiscing some more. 

Just as they stop in front of his flat, another couple catches his eye. They look about his age, just a bit down from where they’re standing. He struggles to focus on what Niall’s saying when he can see the way they’re holding hands, the way they’re leaning into each other. It looks a lot like him and Harry, if he squints. 

“Lou, did you hear me?” 

His eyes travel back to Niall and he blinks, “Hm?” 

“I said we should do this again,” Niall laughs, “ _ Soon _ . I’ve missed you too much.” 

It’s rare that Niall says anything sentimental, so his words stick with Louis on a deeper level than usual. He hugs him again. Neither of them have ever been very good at expressing their feelings but tonight it seems like they’ve missed each other too much to care. 

“Love you, bud,” he says, patting Louis’ back. 

“Love you too,” Louis grins. He squeezes Niall tightly once more before letting him go, turning back to go into his building. 

“Oh, and Lou?” Niall calls. 

He turns on one of the front steps, looking over his shoulder at where Niall’s stood on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. He looks young, the same as he used to. The same as he always has. “Yeah?” 

“You look really, really good,” he says. 

“Oh,” Louis smiles bashfully, “Thank you. I’ve been working out -” 

“No, no. I mean you look good -  _ happy _ . I’m happy for you.” 

His laugh sounds more like he’s choking as he runs back down to hug him again before he goes inside. “Thank you, Ni.” 

“Damn, you’ve gotten soft,” he chuckles, hugging him back for a few moments before pushing at his shoulder. 

Louis flips him off until he can’t see him anymore, and then he stares at the back of the door with a goofy grin once it shuts. Finally -  _ finally _ everything seems to be falling into place. 

+

After another amazingly productive week, Louis has a shitty Thursday. He wakes up on the wrong side of the bed with a headache with no attributable cause. The tea he makes is cold by the time he drinks it because he’d forgotten to take his trash out and missed the deadline by ten minutes. When he rushes back up the stairs, his neighbor spills hot coffee all down the front of his outfit. 

To top it all off, he’d passed his bedroom mirror when he’d changed out of the stained shirt. He’s come so far from months before but he can’t help noticing the stubborn flaws that just won’t go away. His weight had dropped some but the stretch marks are still there, still noticeable along with the slight outward curve of his tummy. Louis rips his gaze away from the glass just as he feels tears burn in the back of his throat. He puts on the sweatpants and a loose shirt instead of the yoga pants. 

He texts Harry he’s on his way because it’s a habit, but also because he’s used to getting a response. A smiley face or a thumbs up, something that tells him Harry’s excited to see him. Today, he receives nothing. Harry doesn’t even open his message. He gets stuck in the afternoon traffic and hopes that the cutback will give Harry time to read it, but his phone is still blank when he parks at the front of the gym. 

Shaking his head, he pockets it in the front of his bag and heads inside. After all, the only way the day could be revived at this point is Harry. Maybe he got caught up with a client, Louis thinks, or he just doesn’t have his phone on him. 

Louis gets deja vu walking the long hallways, thinking back to when he would go looking for Harry the first few times he came here. But he isn’t in the pool or the boxing ring when Louis passes them, and his office door is locked when he tries the handle. Frowning, he crosses his arms over his stomach and heads to the main floor. 

It doesn’t take him long to spot Harry when there’s nothing between them. From where he’s standing, he can see him perfectly - and the blonde in the tight sports bra that’s got a hand on his bicep. 

Harry’s face is unreadable as she flutters around him, her ponytail bouncing with her movements. She leans in close to massage his shoulders and Louis’ eyes widen, a sour feeling swirling in his stomach. 

Knowing he shouldn’t, he sneaks behind the equipment closest to him until he can hear what they’re saying. His ex was never the most subtle when he flirted with other people, and Louis can spot the signs immediately. But the key here is  _ Harry _ . 

He feels foolish as he hides behind the closest divider, acting like he’s crouching to tie his shoe when someone glances in his direction. Harry’s back is facing him but he can hear them perfectly now. 

“You don’t have to do that, thanks,” Harry says. 

“Oh, c’mon,” she purrs. “You know I’ve got magic hands.” 

There’s movement like Harry’s just tugged her off but he can’t be certain without seeing anything. When he speaks again Louis still can’t decipher what he’s feeling. 

“Did you want to finish the routine?” 

“I’d rather finish it over dinner,” he hears her answer quickly. “And then at my apartment.” 

Louis slinks away back the way he came, slipping between machines and equipment until he can round the corner back to Harry’s office again. He doesn’t want to hear the answer. He knows Harry likes him at least a bit, but they were never exclusive. Louis’ got no right to feel the rush of nauseating emotion that falls over him, familiar fear just like he used to feel every time his ex slipped into bed late into the night, smelling of someone else and with hickies littered along his chest. 

Harry isn’t an ex, though. He isn’t an  _ anything _ , really. Louis feels slightly insane for even considering it. He should never have allowed himself to get so attached. His brain flashes from past to present and back again, flitting between his ex and Harry. They’re so incredibly different, and yet Louis feels the same things now as he did when his ex finally grew the balls to break up with him. At least  _ then _ it’d been appropriate, he muses bitterly. These feelings  _ now _ are not warranted. 

He’s got his head in between his knees when Harry finally does show up. 

“Hey, I’m so sorry I’m late,” he says, unlocking his office door before his eyes fall to Louis. “Louis? Hey, what’s the matter?” 

“I’m sorry,” is all he offers. He stands to make a run for it, suddenly not as brave as he felt a few moments ago, but just as he reaches the end of the hallway a group of one of the classes the gym teaches blocks his path. Before they see him, he panics and goes into the bathrooms instead. 

“Louis - wait. What are you sorry about? What happened?” 

“I like you,” Louis blurts. It feels childish and too vulnerable as the silence settles between them, Harry’s face morphing into a confused frown. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I got too attached, okay? I know you were just being nice to me and trying to make me feel better and I know I have no right to feel that way but I - I can’t help it. I’m sorry,” he rushes, arms crossed protectively across his chest. 

Harry’s quiet for a few minutes while he thinks, lips pursed as he stands in the center of the bathrooms. Louis hopes for the best and braces himself for the worst, fully aware of how much he’s overstepped. Him and Harry were never supposed to be exclusive. He’d known that before, too, but it just - it hurts more when he’s properly faced with just how true it is. 

“Look, Louis,” Harry sighs, “I think - I may have let this, the sex and everything, go too far. It’s not what I was trying to do and -” 

Louis cuts him off with a dry laugh, swallowing back the thick tears in his throat until his eyes burn. “Save it,” he says. 

“What - what are you talking about?” Harry’s brows furrow. 

“You can save your excuses,” Louis shrugs, tugging the strap of his bag back onto his shoulder angrily. He wants to get  _ out _ , doesn’t care much for the list of reasons he’s probably got prepared. Louis isn’t as fit as his real relationships, doesn’t have the look or the resolve or  _ something _ , he’s sure. After how much he’s played a hand in making Louis confident again, this is the last thing he wants to hear. 

“Louis, wait-” Harry reaches for him but Louis swerves out of the way. 

“No. I really don’t want to hear about it. I know that I wasn’t supposed to - to  _ feel _ but I did and I’m sorry for that. I know you don’t need that right now and it’s - it’s all my fault. I won’t hold anything against you but,  _ please _ , Harry, don’t make me listen to this.” 

He makes it to the final word of his sentence before his voice crackles and breaks, his lower lip wobbling. Louis turns his head quickly to the side to hide it but he doesn’t think it works. He can feel Harry’s eyes burning a hole in his cheek. Sniffing, Louis readjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder and heads for the exit, but Harry’s quicker. 

“Wait here,” Harry says lowly, still blocking him from leaving. “I mean it, Louis. I’m going to go lock up but I need you to wait here, alright?” 

“Harry-” 

“ _ Alright _ ?” Harry emphasizes. 

“Alright, okay,” Louis huffs, sagging against the wall behind him. 

His resolve had dropped fairly quickly. Louis’d wanted to make a scene after feeling so miserable all day, wanted to scream and cry and maybe hit him a little. Instead, Harry spoke to him calmly and he’s just following orders.  _ What’s wrong with me today? _ He wonders. 

HIs vision holds on the tile floor in the minutes until Harry comes back, listening as people thin out and doors shut and lights click off. Those noises used to excite him. Now, he wishes he’d left with them. And maybe that he’d never come in in the first place. 

Harry comes walking briskly in through the open doorway, fixing Louis with a stare. He’s brought his own bag, dropping it unceremoniously next to the entryway while he moves forward. 

“If you think for one second that I could have with anyone else what I have with you -” Harry stalks toward him, gaze heavy on his own and stopping only when they’re a breath apart, “You’re  _ sorely _ mistaken,” he whispers. 

“But - you said that - that we weren’t -” Louis argues, shifting uncomfortably underneath his shadow. 

“I said it’d gotten out of hand,” he says. 

“Yeah, and -” 

“And if you’d have let me  _ finish _ ,” he growls, aggravated, “You would have known that I meant I should’ve asked you to be mine a long time ago.” 

Harry steps back only enough to allow him space to strip his shirt off, thumbing underneath the band of his sweatpants to slide those to the ground, too. Alongside his boxers, Harry’s naked in seconds, unhurried as he reaches for Louis’ bag to slide off of his shoulder. 

“What are you doing,” Louis asks, panicked but not fighting him. His brain is still fighting to catch up with the surprise. 

“I feel fucking disgusting,” Harry mutters. “We’re going to take a shower so you can wash her filthy hands off of me, and then I’m going to show you just how much I meant what I said.” 

Mouth open and eyes wide, Louis lets himself be undressed. Instead of the calm, composed, happy Harry he’s used to, he gets jostled a bit as his shirt is yanked over his head and his trousers and underwear are yanked down to his ankles in one go, Harry’s mouth set in a stony frown. He stays quiet for fear of angering him more, cursing his own body for flooding with adrenaline at the mere thought of Harry touching him. Except - 

“Wait, what did you tell her?” 

Regarding him with an unimpressed glance like he already knows what Louis’ talking about, he deadpans, “I told her no, Louis.” 

He’d thought that, for the record, but it makes him feel better to be assured. It makes him calmer as Harry pulls him into the largest shower stall and shuts the curtain. He turns the water to warm and hands Louis the soap and body wash. 

As the stall begins to fill with slight steam from the temperature of the hot water, Louis doesn’t ask him to change it. He blushes with color as he pours out a pool of the body wash onto his palm, rubbing it together until it foams as best he can since he doesn’t have a loofa. Then, with still slightly unsteady hands, he presses his palms flat against Harry’s chest. 

The first touch feels different for both of them, Louis gasping as Harry sucks in a sharp breath through his nose. Louis knows he’s still looking at him but he physically can’t make himself look up and meet his gaze, afraid of what traces might be left of their earlier conversation - some kind of evidence of where they stand that he doesn’t want to uncover just yet. 

Focusing on washing him like he’d asked, Louis massages his fingers into the warm skin of his pecs. He’s admired Harry’s body before but never so closely, so intimately. And never with Harry openly watching him do it. He feels dizzy with feeling, unable to put a finger on exactly what it is fluttering in his chest. 

He grabs a washcloth from just outside the stall to rinse off his chest when he’s finished. Harry’s eyes never leave him as he moves. Louis wets the cloth and slides it gently over the soapy surfaces, past Harry’s nipples and down to his navel. He doesn’t move farther until he has a better read on the situation. Instead, he motions silently for Harry to turn so he can get his back. 

When he does, Louis is faced with bitter memories from only a few minutes prior. He can picture her manicured nails on his shoulder, a finger running the length of Harry’s back the way Louis’ might have once or twice before. Frowning, he lathers up his hands again. 

Admittedly more worked up than he’d been before, he scrubs the skin of his back and shoulders with renewed energy. He wants her touch  _ off _ of him, yet another sign he’s gotten himself in too deep. Irrational anger settles heavy in his gut while tears sting his eyes even as Harry bends down to help him reach the higher areas around his neck. 

This time he rinses the skin halfheartedly with the rag as opposed to taking his time. He doesn’t stop until there isn’t a drop of body wash left on him, until he can look at him again without seeing someone else instead. 

“All done,” he rasps, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand before he turns back around. 

Without thanking him, Harry spins until they’re face to face. He takes the rag from his open hand and wipes down Louis’ chest and arms quickly in return while it’s still wet with soap. When he’s deemed clean enough, he grabs Louis’ shoulder to turn him around until he’s facing the shower wall, Harry’s chest radiating warmth close behind him. 

Louis crosses his arms over his stomach and lets his head hang low so Harry won’t see the few tears that slip down his cheek. He’s gotten mixed signals and he wants nothing more than to ask him to clarify but he doesn’t want to be a  _ bother _ and - he’s overwhelmed. By seeing them together, by what he’d said, by how gently he’s running his fingers over Louis’ skin even when he seems undoubtedly angry. 

They’re so close that he struggles to fit the washcloth between his chest and Louis’ back, taking extra time to run it across his shoulders and over his spine. He stops abruptly at the dip where his arse curves out, the rag dropping to the floor of the shower with a resounding  _ plop _ . 

Breathing faster already, Louis glances over his shoulder at him but isn’t able to get a word out before Harry’s pressing him further into the wall, nosing at Louis’ dripping wet hair and inhaling deeply. 

“Did you really think I could look at anyone else when I have  _ this _ to keep me company?” He denotes his words by firmly grabbing a handful of Louis’ arse, squeezing until Louis whimpers. “When I know you’re ready and willing for it anytime I want it?” 

Despite hot blood rushing quickly to the area between his hips, Louis doesn’t answer him. His words are nice but Louis’ been insecure for far too long now to change it in an instant. Harry’s played a hand in making him infinitely more confident, but he’s still got flaws that he can’t bear to look at in the light. No matter how nice the distraction had been, he was reminded tonight of just how much they still ache when prodded at. As if hearing his thoughts, Harry’s grip turns lighter as he speaks again. 

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it, Louis,” he breathes, sparing a strikingly sweet kiss to his cheekbone. “We fit, baby. Don’t tell me you don’t feel that.” 

To prove it he pulls Louis’ hips back into him until they’re completely pressed together. And, yeah, they do fit. They always have. Louis’d thought he’d been the only one to notice. He still appreciates the evidence though, each of his soft curves fitting snugly into Harry’s hard edges. From his head to his ankles, every part of them fits - even his stubbornly wide hips and his thick thighs. Even his insecurities fit with Harry. 

As if deciding he’s finished being gentle, Harry kicks Louis’ legs apart with his foot, pushing his back forward until his face is pressed to the slick shower wall and his arse is on display. 

“V’wanted to make you mine since the minute we met in the lobby,” he growls. 

Louis bites his lip as Harry smooths a hand from the back of his neck down to his arse, disappearing for a few moments before coming down with a harsh slap on his left cheek. 

“Oh,” he moans, water from the shower slipping down his face and into his open mouth as his eyes slip shut. 

“Haven’t touched anyone else since you came here,” Harry mutters. “You just - you don’t fucking see it, do you? How crazy I am about you?” 

Harry spanks him again for good measure before he runs a finger over Louis’ hole, slipping over it easily with the moisture. Swallowing around a whimper, Louis mouths at his own hand pressed against the painted brick. 

There’s no warning before Harry’s sticking one finger into him and then two, but somehow Louis’d known it was coming. In the heat of the moment it feels so good he can’t do anything but lean into it and pant wantonly onto the back of his own hand. 

He gets up to three before Harry’s slipping them out again, reaching around to stuff Louis’ mouth full of them. Behind him, Louis can feel Harry fist over his cock a few times, tapping it over Louis’ hole teasingly. 

He’s still reeling from it all when Harry lifts one of his legs and slides home, seating himself inside of Louis in under a second. Louis screams around his fingers, then moans. Harry grips his chin until Louis’ head rests on his shoulder so he can look him in the eye. 

“You think I could fuck anyone else like this?” Harry bites at his ear but the words feel more comforting than anything else, his tongue soothing the initial shot of pain. 

A steady rhythm is set once he gets going. He wraps a muscled arm around Louis’ shoulders and Louis grips it with his hand, nails digging into it to keep him there. With his mouth free now he babbles up at Harry nonsensically, lost in the sharp pleasure. 

Harry keeps one of his thighs up in the air with his other hand, the stretch just painful enough to keep Louis thoroughly interested in the new angle. 

“Just you, baby,” he grunts. “Only you.” 

“Harry,” Louis gasps, eyes rolling back in his head when he’s lifted off of the ground with the power of his thrusts. Pressed snugly between Harry and the wall, he feels safe. Small. 

“Yeah, no one else could make you feel this good. Isn’t that right, Louis?” 

The water turns progressively colder as it pelts down on both of them but it still feels burning hot as it lands on Louis’ skin and pools on his back and collarbones. Harry’s lips mouth at his shoulder the longer the silence stretches on. 

“C’mon, baby, tell me,” he coos, “Tell me how good I make you feel.” 

“So - so good,” Louis babbles. “Only one that -  _ oh _ \- best I ever had.” Harry seems to accept his answer as he pistons harshly against him, but Louis isn’t done yet. If he’s got a chance to let him know, he’s going to tell him. “Make me feel so safe and nice. Love - love the way you fuck me. Only one that’s ever made me feel like this.” 

Harry’s hips slow considerably where they’re nestled against Louis’ slick bare arse, and Louis gulps. Maybe he shouldn’t have said so much. 

But then Harry’s gripping him by the throat and turning his head around for a kiss, grinding filthy circles into him as he nips at Louis’ mouth and tongue, and the thought disappears. He leans back into him, his head tilted nearly all the way up to keep them connected. He holds the pose until he can’t anymore, until Harry’s ramming into him again so hard that he’s shaking, falling against the shower wall. 

“Baby,” Harry hums, “Come for me.” 

It wouldn’t have been all that difficult anyway, but he doesn’t even have to think about it with the way his prick is being constantly pushed against the wet brick in front of him. He’s still overwhelmed and high on all of the emotions swirling around them, too hazy to even think about it as he begins to vibrate with his release, shooting hot cum onto the surface and sobbing with the force of it. 

Harry winds up just as Louis begins to relax, pounding into him harder than any time before. Louis remains blissfully numb as he arches his back for the taking, clenching sporadically around Harry’s cock. 

“Oh, oh,” he pants, a hand on Louis’ shoulder working him back onto his dick and another gripping his waist. Louis doesn’t have to see him to know his head is thrown backward and his eyes are pinched shut. “Oh,  _ shit _ .” 

He comes inside of Louis with a shout, still jerking his hips forward until there’s nothing left to give. Gradually he slows, stilling with his cock still inside of him. Chest heaving, he pulls Louis back up to him to brush the hair out of his face and kiss him again. 

Just like that he seems to return back to normal, mouthing at his tongue softly and cradling his cheek in a big hand. His touches turn gentle instead of rough, petting leisurely at his skin until Louis’ breathing calms. 

When they part, it’s with no less care, Harry taking time to lower his leg back to the ground and massage the muscle before pulling out of him in small increments. He even reaches for another rag to clean the sweat and cum from Louis’ spent body, cranking the shower temperature all the way to the side for the last of the hot water. 

The quiet that comes afterward doesn’t bother him as much as it had before they stepped in. Without the shower running he feels calmer now, almost, his eyes tracking Harry’s hazy movements as he grabs them towels. He dries Louis off with close precision starting with his hair and ending with the soles of his feet. 

Instead of reaching into Louis’ bag Harry rummages through his own next to the door, pulling out a large t-shirt and some of his sweatpants. He lets Louis balance with a hand on his shoulder as he helps him step into the pants, one leg and then the other, and steadies him as he slips the shirt over his damp hair and chest. Louis feels like he could cry again but for completely different reasons. 

He isn’t ready for love yet. He’d been hurt pretty badly and those scars still bleed sometimes, that part of his heart still somewhat locked away somewhere he doesn’t know how to unlock just yet. But he can picture it. 

Early mornings with Harry, sliding out of bed to eat breakfast together before they head to the gym, or go for a run on his days off. Louis can picture them away from there too, just lounging around one of their flats or eating out at pretentiously expensive healthy cafes Harry’s told him about. He can see them cooking together and watching television and laughing. When he blinks, just for a second, he can see it - what it would be like to be in love with Harry. 

In fact, it’s all he can think about when Harry drops a kiss to his shoulder after he’s dressed as well, a hand on his lower back to lead them out as he carries both of their bags. Louis wants to ask him where they’re going but he doesn’t get a chance, stopping around the corner at Harry’s office. 

Holding his hand, Harry leads him to the middle of the small room and traps him comfortably in between himself and the desk. Louis shuffles back until he’s sat on the edge, until Harry is able to stand in between his legs. 

He lets go of Louis’ hand and slides his palms up his legs, clothed and warm from the shower. Harry stops to thumb sweetly at his hips, then his waist, then his arms. He finishes the journey with Louis’ face in between his hands. 

“Let me show you I mean it,” Harry murmurs across his lips. “Let me show you how you deserve to be treated.” 

Louis falls into the kiss easily. Waking up to this every day seems impossible, too good to be true on more than just a few levels. But Harry’s offering it, isn’t he? Louis is still scared, he thinks, but if there’s anyone he trusts enough to grow and learn with, it’s Harry. He’s taught him so many things, let him explore himself without attributing his growth to anything else but Louis’ own will, and he did it all without making him uncomfortable once. He’d never expected to find this when he’d forced himself to walk into the gym on that first day. 

Harry’s arms encircle him until their chests are together again, one hand lifting to hold the back of Louis’ head. Louis’ putty in his hand and his brain is still a few minutes behind, but he can still see that vision. 

“Be mine, Louis,” he says. 

He isn’t ready for love yet. But this - this  _ pull _ between them, Harry’s ability to make him feel safe, the way they fit together so well, seems interestingly close. Louis’ lips curve up into the kiss, unable to conceal his growing smile. Harry pulls back and kisses each of his lips, his nose and over his eyes. His ex has taken so much from him. Made him feel awful about himself, made fun of his happiness. He took away nearly everything that Louis used to love. 

He won’t take this. A slow grin lengthens the corners of Louis' lips. 

“Okay.” 

+

After many more months of practice and an unexplainable inclination to finally get it right, Louis manages to perfect his boxing skills and, whether he did it to make him feel better or not, Harry falls flat on his arse when Louis hits the glove while Niall watches and applauds from the side. 

Louis keeps it in his and Harry’s apartment to commemorate the day. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! you can reblog this post [here](https://soldouthaz.tumblr.com/post/619695809892646912/%F0%9D%90%A5%F0%9D%90%9E%F0%9D%90%AD-%F0%9D%90%A6%F0%9D%90%9E-%F0%9D%90%9C%F0%9D%90%9A%F0%9D%90%AB%F0%9D%90%AB%F0%9D%90%B2-%F0%9D%90%B2%F0%9D%90%A8%F0%9D%90%AE%F0%9D%90%AB-%F0%9D%90%B0%F0%9D%90%9E%F0%9D%90%A2%F0%9D%90%A0%F0%9D%90%A1%F0%9D%90%AD-%F0%9D%90%84-%F0%9D%9F%90%F0%9D%9F%96%F0%9D%90%A4-louis-is-fresh) and on twitter :)
> 
> my school is starting back up and i'm thinking about signing up for the blff's so i might be fairly busy coming up! i'm still going to try to stick to my schedule of once a month but in case i don't, you can always find me on tumblr and twitter @/soldouthaz !


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